Barring Bookings, Bail and Bondage
by ravenromance27
Summary: There are laws.There are people who follow the law; people that break the law and people who administer the law. There are Mafia. There are mafia men who follow the law; mafia men who break the law and mafia men who administer the law. Then there is the Vongola, who follow the law and break the law. And then there is Decimo's Vongola-who defines their own law.
1. Booking

**Authors Note: Standard Disclaimer applies.** Sometimes craziness just oozes from the cracks we rightfully justify under the guise of creativity and imagination. Written for no reason but that it was inside my head and it was crying to get out.I'm not that mean, so I let it. Blame me. KHR characters belong to Akira Amano. The others belong to me.

* * *

**I. BOOKING**

**_The life of the law has not been logic; it has been reason._**

_Oliver Wendell Holmes_

* * *

Any decent precinct runs on a few inviolable precedents. And yet somehow the denizens of Precinct 27 never saw a booking quite like the one they faced that one Monday morning.

The day started unobtrusively enough. There were the usual clients and customers of the precinct—the drunks and cokeheads found loitering in the parks along with the usual hobos and homeless that would be turned over to the respective government agencies, the hookers and pimps being booked for the nth time, juvenile hoodlums that would be picked up by Child's services.

The precinct, along with all the other branches of civil service sector had to face downsizing and so they also had to deal with traffic and parking offenses. This made for a frenetic looking station always filled with people, coming and going, and in various emotional states—from the despondency of repeat offenders to the bewildered looks of first-timers and the irate shouts and belligerent attitudes of those inconvenienced by petty crimes, paperwork, bureaucracy and fees.

But this morning, an event of epic and unprecedented proportions would occur and it would come down as the start of Precinct 27 many legends.

* * *

The perpetrator for this memorable day was a unremarkable young man with unruly brown hair, delicate features and soft, apologetic russet eyes. He was brought in by an equally youthful looking female rookie by the name of Rossi who made the arrest somewhere between 11th Avenue near Club Row and promptly brought her prize to the 27th Street Precinct.

For all intents and purposes, the young offender looked no older than perhaps 22 or 23 at most, the average age of a college student just back from spring break. He was soft spoken, did not resist when he was arrested and waited patiently and quietly with his cuffed beringed hands arranged on his lap after he made his one requisite phone call. A prepossessing, well-mannered young man who just happened to be extremely well dressed.

The pinstriped suit he wore, obviously expensive, bore all the signs of being handmade and by an exceptional tailor no doubt, if one would care to ignore the fact that it was slightly wrinkled and gave off the most unusual scent of smoke. His pale amber shirt and black tie were clearly made of the finest linen and silk. An elaborate, bejeweled tie pin engraved with an intricate design held the narrow column of silk in place. His shoes while made with the finest leather had a faint sheen of dust coating them. The silk handkerchief peeking from the breast pocket of his suit was snowy white and impeccably folded.

His entire look and quiet demeanor however called the attention of two seasoned homicide detectives having their coffee break in the nearby bullpen. Detectives Esposito, a veteran of two decades in the force nudged his partner of four years, Detective Costa, a man seven years his junior and gestured with his coffee mug at the sight.

"Check out the rookie's recent collar."

"Which rook?"

"Rossi."

"Whoa. Who's the little prince?"

"Prince is right. Have you seen the duds the boy is wearing? I swear that tie alone must cost more than everything inside my closet put together."

"That's not hard to imagine. All you have are cheap suits and polyester lounge pants."

"Sue me. I try to exist with my hard-earned measly government pay. Who has the time to resurrect the Brooks Brothers for me?"

"Man, you suck. _The Brooks Brothers_? _Really_?"

Costa looked at his older and much respected partner and snorted. Esposito merely blinked, smiling and shaking his head and tried again.

"What? Should I have settled for Sy Devore then?"

This time Costa nearly spit his coffee in shock. He glared at his partner and wondered if the older man was teasing him.

"_**Devore**_? Gods, you're a retro-freak. Is the Rat-Pack the only style reference you have?"

Esposito tut-tutted and wagged an admonishing finger at the glaring young man.

"Hey boy, don't you go messing with the classics."

"What's that supposed to even mean? What you're wearing isn't classic. It makes you look like a toon-!"

He would've said more but movement in the booking area caught his interest. A distinguished looking man in a blue suit and trench just walked in and was conferring with the day's desk officer. His dark eyes and sharp aquiline features held an intense in look in them—like a predator that caught the tell-tale scent of a favored prey. He held a cellphone to his ear and was rattling off mile-a-minute instructions to whoever it was that was on the other line.

"Hey, isn't that Special Inspector Dominico De Luca? I thought there was some kind of bust going down this week. What's a veteran like him doing here in booking?"

"The bust tanked. Or so I've heard from the grapevine. Something big went down but no one in Organized Crime is talking. Anyways, apparently the little princeling over there is generating some kind of interest. Enough to have someone as big as De Luca come in and take a gander at him, at the very least."

"Why is that? Rich boy's family must be well connected. De Luca doesn't go all the way down here unless it's something big or something involving the old families."

"Well, he doesn't seem to be involved in the _Famiglias_, I mean he looks too—"

"Too nice and normal to be a wise-guy or a low level stooge."

"So I guess he's the other kind of family-connected. The money kind."

"Must be. They haven't even processed him."

"No _shit_. Why is he in a holding cell then?"

"He must've committed some offense or something. Rossi wouldn't have brought him for nothing. But when I got coffee I head that Dominico called booking right away when he heard the young man's name and told them to hold off. Won't even allow them to print the guy."

"Huh. Why is that? Any idea?"

The older detective only shook his head but his eyes never strayed from the young man and the well-known inspector hovering just outside the room where their current source of interest resides. His fingers started tapping the rim of his cup absently as he tried to figure out the puzzle of the holding cell's latest, and at the moment, sole occupant.

"Nope. Told the Chief he's waiting to see who would come to claim him. The boys in booking made some complaints about it creating a loophole earlier with the young man's lawyer but then a call came through here a few minutes ago and now they're all hunky dory."

"Who made the call?"

"No idea, but I'm pretty sure they mentioned that the call came from the Italian and Japanese embassy."

"Two embassies called for him? That's pretty quick. Diplomatic status or dual citizenship?"

"Maybe. Who knows? But since we're on break, no one would blame us if we just sit here and graze, right?"

The younger detective gave a wicked grin that revealed a heretofore unknown dimple on his cheek and saluted his partner with his own cup.

"Right you are, Boss."

* * *

The first guy to arrive on the scene was a dark haired, handsome and imperially slim built Eurasian looking man that looked only a bit older than their current perp. Dressed in a superbly tailored elegantly understated black suit, purple linen shirt and plum colored silk tie he carried himself off with an air of a visiting dignitary—or an irate general. His sharp, unusual colored eyes scanned the room before landing on the young man sitting quietly in the holding cell. Without further ado, he marched straight into the room and lifted the cuffed wrist before turning a malevolent glare at the officer standing next to the man, startled by how quickly the young man gained access to their prisoner.

'Hey! You can't do that."

"You. Remove it at once."

The words were spoken in precise, uninflected and heavily accented English. Clearly a foreigner, the man's word took on a curt, undeniable edge. The officer in charge of the young offender was clearly affronted by being dismissed so casually and his tone had the slightest bit of edge.

"Sir, please remove your hands from our perp."

"You dare to issue me an order, herbivore?"

"Sir, I don't know who you are or who you're calling a herbivore but you can't just walk in here and talk to one of our collars. Are you his lawyer?"

"Do I really look like hired help to you?"

"Step away from the prisoner, Sir."

"I must be hallucinating. You really are issuing me a direct order?"

"Please stop."

The voice that spoke possessed a soft, mellifluous lilt that immediately silenced the growing tension inside the room. His eyes, lambent twin pools of fathomless chocolate gazed at the coldly furious Eurasian by his side and touched the clenched fist with his bound hands. The harsh jingle of links caught their attention and the anger welling in his purple grey eyes blazed anew.

"Why have you allowed yourself this indignity?" he grated.

"I couldn't disrupt the peace of the town. I broke a rule. The handcuffs are just a precaution since I'm being held in an open area."

"You need not adhere to the rules in this godforsaken land."

"You would've demanded the same from me if we had been at home."

"I would've punished you myself if you had, but you are not that foolish."

"It will be alright. I already made a call."

"They haven't responded quickly enough."

"Then I shall let you reprimand them when we return. I am sure our legal department would benefit greatly from your methodologies."

The smile that graced the thin lips could only be described as bloodthirsty and the young policeman that came to reprimand him took an involuntary step back. Gathering what remained of his rattled dignity, the cop reminded him that if he was not the young man's lawyer (and obviously he wasn't being so young and all), that he must wait outside.

"Sir, as I said if you are not his law-!"

"I'm head of security."

"You're his bodyguard?"

"No. I guard everyone else from him."

And with that parting shot the Eurasian man simply turned and walked away. But he didn't go very far. He took precisely four steps away before turning and leaning against the door jamb, his eyes trained on a far corner of the room. He didn't make any other move, none that was in any way provocative or suspicious but some of the older more experience officers noted that with the Eurasian man standing where he was, there were effectively no way to get to the young man without the Eurasian being close enough to intercept them. With a few deft steps he had effectively and efficiently fenced in and guarded the young man from any and all attack. The detectives watching the exchange both gave a low admiring whistle at the smooth moves on the part of the Eurasian. It was Detective Costa who gave the ebony-haired youth another once over and shook his head in disbelief.

"Slick. That right there is one slick young man. I wonder who trained him."

"A bodyguard at that age? Yaikks."

"Hmm…that proves the money angle. Only the super-rich want a bodyguard that blends in with their crowd. It's actually considered gauche to have the burly, gun-toting kind."

"_Gauche_ huh. Mighty fancy word there kid."

"Bite me old man."

* * *

The next one to arrive was a silver haired man with a fierce scowl on his classically handsome face and unusually intense teal eyes. He was dressed near as expensively and fashionably as the other two young men who were in the station but his fingers were laden with rings of various shapes and sizes giving him a slightly rebellious air. When he saw the slim, dark haired Eurasian he spoke in rapid fire Italian, all while reaching into his pocket, withdrawing a cigarette and quickly lighting it despite the glaringly huge "_NO SMOKING_" sign hanging just behind him. When the man in question only stared at him with a bored expression on his face he then switched to rapid fire Japanese. The Eurasian spoke briefly but whatever he said apparently didn't satisfy the silver head.

When neither language could get him any kind of favorable reaction from his companion, he turned to the policeman watching nearby and he switched once more, this time to flawless—still rapid fire—English and demanded that they keep the young man-_**his boss**_-somewhere comfortable, quiet and decent. He also demanded to know _who the hell had the bright idea of cuffing his boss in 'cheap-ass-stainless-steel' (__**His words**__) and why are they being so impolite as to not even offer his boss any tea?_

When the booking officer demanded in turn, to know who he was and whether he was the young man's lawyer, the silver head simply snorted and said that the lawyers are on their way and until they arrive he would be there to make sure that his boss is treated right. A hurried conference with Inspector De Luca by one of the officers yielded an accord. With that declaration, he waited for the young man in question to be led to an empty conference room walled in glass, before he appropriated a chair and sat squarely in front of the only door that led to it. When the other police officers demanded that they put someone in there with their perp, he simply waved away their demand and said his boss already had someone with him. The Eurasian, had indeed, accompanied the young man inside the conference room.

The young man ignored them after that. He finished off a cigarette and started on another, a cellphone tucked under his ear and reassured the surrounding police officers that his boss wasn't going anywhere and that he personally couldn't allow any of them near his boss until the lawyer came or someone higher up vetted their worthiness. When they demanded that he tell them who he was he simply shrugged and replied absentmindedly that he was the young man's Executive Assistant.

"Executive Assistant?"

"Yeah."

"You want us to believe that you're that man's Executive Assistant?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? You have a problem with my boss?"

"What need does a young man have for an Executive Assistant?"

"One that manages a huge family holding."

"So you're working for that young man?"

"..."

"What particular business are you involved in?"

"International Security and Finance."

"Would you be more specific?"

"Would you take off those godforsaken shackles off of him?"

"Of course not. Would you be more specific about this business you speak of?"

"Of course not."

* * *

Ten minutes after the silverette came, another man came along. This time it was a tall Asian young man with a walk that ate up the earth and an enviable coordinated grace that spoke of impressive athleticism. Slung nonchalantly across his back was a wooden sword favored by those studying ancient martial arts. The young brunette smiled affably at the gathered policemen, hazel eyes twinkling mischievously on his attractive face and politely asked for directions. When he was motioned towards the conference room, his smile slipped a little and his eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit. When he saw the young man inside the glass room, he flashed a genuine smile of relief that vanished quicker than a warm streak in winter when he noticed the slim circles of metal around the young man's wrist. His eyes took on a sharp predatory gleam in them and the police officer, already reeling from the Eurasian's earlier hostility took a further step back and stood behind the heavy oak table in the mistaken belief that it could lessen the killing intent that suddenly swung his way.

"Officer. Why is he in handcuffs?"

"Ah…he…he hasn't been processed yet—"

"Processed?"

The young officer stumbled through his explanations hurriedly, some atavistic warning inside his head telling him that to do otherwise would be a folly.

"Y-yes. We need to have his prints and they haven't been taken yet because your embassy called and requested that we hold off—the—uhm—p-procedure…"

His words trailed off in a sputter but the tall Asian simply nodded before giving him a dazzlingly amiable smile. It made him blink and wonder if the fear he felt just moments before was a product of an over-active paranoid mind.

"I see. Thank you Officer."

"Y-you're welcome."

The Asian man, turned towards the silver head and raised a hand in greeting, his smile still fixed squarely on his open, friendly countenance.

"Yo! I came as soon as I heard."

"You're fucking late, idiot."

"Maa, maa...I came as fast as I could. I had to leave the Maserati behind when I got your call though. Seemed quicker to just run than wade in traffic."

"The hell did you say? That's great, just fucking great! You just had to leave the fucking car in the middle of fucking nowhere. You did remember to lock it right? You did that much, at least, right?"

"Well...I think I did."

"Did you at least fucking remember to install the godforsaken box that Irie gave you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Then the car would be fine."

"If you say so."

"I just did, idiot."

"So he got here first?" his head nodding towards the Eurasian that still stood behind the seated and cuffed young man.

"Yeah."

"Wonder how he knew."

"I'm wondering the same bloody thing. I think I'm going to have a real heart-to-heart talk to him and that criminally good intelligence network he has when we get back home."

The athletic young man simply laughed aloud and clapped his companion on the back with a huge, long fingered hand.

"Good luck with that. It's your funeral, man."

They watched as the smaller brunette spoke to his taciturn guard for a few minutes before returning to the matter at hand. The smile on the sportsman's eyes froze to cold, gleaming hazel.

"Hey, why is he still in cuffs? You know he doesn't like it. For that matter, _**I **_don't like it."

"You think I didn't fucking tell them to take it off? They won't listen to a goddamn thing I say because I'm not his lawyer."

His words trailed off when he noticed the speculative look his newest companion was giving him.

**"…"**

"What the hell are you staring at me for?"

"You. Him."

"I can't call him _that _in here. He likes keeping a low profile, remember? It would give away too much and I can't make this any worse than it is. Do me a favor and make yourself useful. Ask them what the hell the forsaken charge is."

"On it. Oh, and yeah, one more thing."

"I don't know about you but maybe you should lessen the swearing too. We can't have them pull stunts on him because you managed to piss them off."

"You freaking-"

"Just saying."

"Fine. Get a goddamn move already."

"Yep."

Inspector Dominico De Luca waylaid the young man when he went in search of the arresting officer. The harried looking booking officer who was desperately trying to catch up to the young man gave the wizened detective a pathetically grateful smile.

"Inspector De Luca! I-I'm sorry sir. Thank you, sir."

"No problem, there. Now, hey, hey! Wait up there, young man. Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

The Asian youth simply pointed an index finger at the brunette sitting quietly inside the mirrored conference room, the smile in his face not reaching the ice-cold edge present in his hazel gaze.

"I'm here for him."

The Inspector's eyes followed where he pointed before swinging back to the young man in front of him.

"I see. And you are?"

"I'm his administrative assistant and troubleshooter."

The inspector made a show of drawing out a small, slim leather bound note book and made no secret that he was noting everything that he was hearing.

"Isn't the young man over there his Executive Assistant?"

The dark-haired man nodded and smiled.

"And that quiet one inside with him his body guard?"

Another smile and nod.

"So you're his admin and what was that—troubleshooter?"

Nod and smile once more. "Yep."

"So what does that mean?"

"I handle personnel and intercompany disputes."

"So you're another body guard?"

The smile the young man gave this time around showed far more teeth than before. The Inspector and officer that hovered near him would've testified in front of God if they had been asked that they heard the young man growl menacingly while still smiling that awfully creepy smile.

"Well I do that too."

"Just how many people work under that kid?"

"At last count? Directly or indirectly, Sir?" he inquired politely.

"Whichever it is that you know, give me a ballpark figure young man."

"Hm…I think somewhere close to a few hundred thousand."


	2. Restraint

Author's Note: Standard Disclaimer—oh who am I kidding. No one has forgotten who owns KHR so there. I can never thank the readers enough for their overwhelming—and frankly shocking—response to this craziness that hatched inside my brain. It confirms my belief that writing is part insanity, part magic. This is the next installation and I dedicate it to the Sun Guardian who, I rightly feel, deserves his own moment in the sun. My eternal gratitude for all those who have read this work and will continue to do so in the coming days ahead.

* * *

**RESTRAINT**

_**"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."**_

_-Mark Twain_

* * *

Special Inspector Dominico De Luca worked in the Organized Crime Division for more than a decade and a half. Anyone would attest to the fact that it takes a certain kind of man to work one of the most stressful and dangerous sections of the police force but De Luca flourished in it. He liked outsmarting the wise guys. Like a medieval battle field, he plotted the demise of wayward Dons and toppled mini-fiefdoms before they became fodder for front page news. He liked the mental chess game that pitted his intellectual and psychological skills with those of men who act like hedonistic kings and would-be tyrants. While most cops lasted a minimum of two years before they either quit the force, request for permanent transfer, or end up in a body bag floating somewhere in the Hudson. And that's just the fate of the good ones. The others fall on the wayside and later become the kind of problems that the media enjoy and give the Attorney General acid indigestion.

When he heard the name of the young man that a rookie—of all things—brought in, he felt a twinge of unease. There was something about that name, his gut told him. And if he has learned anything useful in his many years as a cop it was this—no intelligence, no information, no inside tip could match the sheer accuracy of a man's instinct for survival screaming at him to run for cover or to take a golden opportunity. And this time, his gut told him to hang on to the young man.

There was also the fact that the young man was found very near the site of the fumbled bust that he spent months trying to organize. The memory of that morning's raid still rankled. He couldn't figure it out. _How can a few hours make such a difference? What kind of powerhouse famiglia could wipe out a rival in less time than it takes to get every cop in New York to one location, all without leaving a single literal body of evidence?_

His only clue was this young man and he almost despaired losing him. _Thank God for Officer Rossi_. The rookie managed to get him downtown before he vanished into the wind. But now, here he was, one favor down with the Chief and still uncertain why he took a gamble on a man young enough to be his son. A man who, all the world could see, seem to be exactly the kind of kid that would earn him a day in hell if he was innocent. The name of the young man nagged at him and as soon as he could get a break, he would call up some contacts. But for now, he must deal with the incoming call from two embassies and these young men who keep on popping one after the other as they tried to ascertain the state and situation of their youthful _"Boss_".

The moniker certainly made him pause. The term was a loose reference to the head of a famiglia. Of course, the movies already made that term so clichéd and hackneyed almost anyone could call someone "Boss" both as a term of endearment or as a subtle insult. It no longer bears the stigma it once did when speaking about men in suits with fierce eyes.

He has a feeling though, that these young men take their jobs to their "Boss" rather seriously, if their devotion is anything to go by. Certainly the young man they all are busy trying to spring from the joint happened to be the most polite felon he has ever seen. He just needs the young prince to explain to him just what he was doing at such a critical location and maybe—maybe—he and his rambunctious, ridiculously attired "Lost Boys" could high-tail it out of his already stifling precinct and go back to their cushy, ridiculously expensive lifestyles.

"A few hundred thousand you mean? Surely you must be kidding my dear young man. You mean his father runs a company of a few hundred thousand men."

"No Sir. I'm pretty sure he runs it. Has been since he got it from Nono."

The term sounds familiar. A few seconds spent trolling through his extensive langue repertoire revealed its source language and meaning.

**Nono**…Italian…**grandfather**_…_

_Ahh_…_Some clarity, finally_! _So the young prince already succeeded his throne_. _No wonder he has assorted kinds of assistants and bodyguards._

He has known of family owned corporations who start off their young on the Times and subscriptions to Wall Street Journals. No doubt, this young man is one such heir. That certainly explained away the expensive attires they all sported with such relaxed indifference. And their casual disregard for following the rules.

"I see."

"May I know where I can find the arresting officer? I need to get my friend out of this place as soon as possible. We still have an appointment that we simply can't miss. A family gathering, you see."

_Again there's that oddly placed and used word. _

**Family. _Famiglia…._ **

_No, no!_ Inspector De Luca shook his head firmly. **No**, he can't afford to go to the deep end right now. Speculations could easily bleed into paranoid and when that happens that would spell the end of it for him. With a small smile, he instructed the young man towards the direction of the bullpen where he noted the presence of two highly interested homicide detectives. The young man bowed to him in thanks and went where he pointed. Grinning, he reached for the Rolodex on his desk and picked up the phone. If they liked gawking so much, they might as well make themselves useful. He has a phone call to make.

* * *

15 minutes later, three figures strode in, this time it was a white haired, muscular man with a strip of bandage on his nose and more bandages wrapped around his hands and knuckles. He was accompanied by a well-dressed young woman in an exquisitely stylish navy business suit and a curly haired teenager wearing a cow printed shirt carrying what looked like a school bag. The two males were loud, boisterous and seemed to argue with each other at the top of their voices, uncaring that they were entering a secure facility that the officers around them could arrest them for disturbing the peace. The woman standing next to them was clutching a leather portfolio in her right hand and massaging her temple with her left.

"I told you already you stubborn cow, you extremely didn't have to come!"

"And I told you, Turf Head that I promised to tell Maman what happened. The girls and Fuuta-nii are all worried because Big Brother missed their lunch date and he never breaks promises like that to family."

"I told you Octopus Head will tell us if there was anything extremely wrong. I got the call from Takeshi and he said that he was extremely heading here too."

"And I told you that I need to be here. So just shut up and let's find out what the heck happened to my big brother!"

"Fine, fine, but it would be extremely better if you stop shouting at me right about now."

"I'm not shouting! You're just being stupid! You got lost just getting here! We would've been here an hour ago! If the mean lady hadn't spotted us we would still be heading towards Central Park!"

"And I told you that it was an extremely good shortcut, you stupid cow!"

The woman next to them has reached the end of her tether. With a quick flick of her hand, she whacked the slim leather portfolio over their heads and growled menacingly.

"Will you two just _shut the hell up_?! I swear being this close to you two is giving me a bloody migraine. Why the heck did you bother to drag me in here when all you do is argue? You two are bloody idiots! And if you two don't shut up I will have you locked up in here before you can even say grave coercion!"

"Hey, I extremely resent that!"

"You are so mean!"

"I don't give a freaking care! BE QUIET!"

* * *

The two continued to glare at each other until they reached the visitors lounge and the booking desk where they saw two familiar figures. The woman trailed behind them, stopping in front of the information desk and conferring with a pale faced, oddly twitchy young officer.

"See? They are extremely here already! Oi! Octopus Head!"

"I can see Big Brother!"

Before anyone could stop them, the two rushed towards the glass-walled room and the young boy tapped on one of the panels. The young brunette looked up and flashed them a small smile and a wave.

The answering relieved smile on the two's faces made the detectives who were still watching the little drama unfold wonder at their devotion. Their amusement at the young people's antics however was quickly swept away when they felt the older male tense in anger and the boy clench small fists in dismayed shock when they noticed the flash of silver on the brunette's wrist. Before they could pass comment however, one of the young men approached them, stating that he was sent there by an Inspector De Luca and wonders if they could help him. The young man was polite, to be sure, smiling and scratching the back of his head like an embarrassed teen as he explained his situation. The detectives quickly explained what he needed and they watched as he joined his quickly growing number of companions.

The white haired young man, older perhaps than the lot of them by a year or two stalked towards the chain smoking youth who was sitting in front of the door where the brunette was kept. His voice grew exponentially louder the closer he got, his fist thumping against the glass panel with each question.

"Oi, Octopus Head-!"

_**BANG!**_

"Why is he extremely in cuffs?"

**_THUD!_**

"What did he extremely do?"

_**THWACK!**_

"And why haven't you extremely gotten him out of here!"

The frown on the silver heads face grew more thunderous as the white haired male came near but before he could give a scathing response the ominous sound of a crack reverberated inside the precinct. Like men possessed they all turned towards the pane of glass that fell victim to the pounding fist of one distraught white haired young man and watched as a small hairline crack first appeared followed immediately by another, and then another until a delicate, absurdly beautiful spider web-like fissure bloomed on what used to be a pristine unmarred surface. The silver head blew one last puff of his smoke and like magic, the smoke curled against the glass and it promptly shattered, showering them both in a hail of glittering lethal shards that fell like mocking snow between them. Lifting their gaze, they both blushed when they met shocked twin orbs of russet and heard behind them the amused snickering of a wickedly grinning Mist.

_"Merde."_

"Extremely."


	3. Chaos and ClusterFschk

**Authors Note:** Standard Disclaimers should probably bore people by now since we've been writing it here whenever we post stuff. I apologize right now since I don't know how else to explain why I couldn't post this sooner or even why this thing ended up being what it is. I just want to say that sometimes I start off writing one thing and what emerges in the end is something I totally have no control over. Furthermore, this is the first time my ramblings ended up being nearly 5500 words in all. So, please, please, be ever merciful. I don't know how to write with humor. I don't know how to do it deliberately. I usually start writing scathing dialogues that somehow becomes somewhat amusing to others. I would welcome the harshest comments with open arms—especially with this insane offering.*Bows* This is part I. Also-please forgive the title for this chapter. There really wasn't anything that hits home quite like this one.

* * *

**COMPANIONS, CHAOS & CLUSTERf*CK**

"_**Chaos is the score upon which reality is written."**_

_Henry Miller_

* * *

All that Officer Bod Jameson ever wanted since he was a boy was to be a cop. Ever since he played _'cops-and-robbers'_ as a kid and watched spaghetti westerns on television, he had this image of the law enforcement as one never-ending adventure for the brave and the true. It didn't matter if he was a little too thin and just a tad on the short side. It didn't matter that he possessed a timid heart and an even more timid nature. His hardworking and conscientious mindset made up for whatever lack he had physically. So right after high school, he went straight for the Police Academy. He firmly believed it was the only way he could overcome the fears of his childhood. He endured the hard training and the demanding work hours. He accepted the lack of any decent social life and dangers that shadowed his chosen profession with equanimity and determination.

He liked being a cop. He enjoyed the human interaction and the day to day dealings with all kinds of people. And even recent budget cutbacks and the added responsibilities and longer hours, he couldn't find it himself to regret the choices he has made. He, however, is finding the day's events to be a cause for serious soul-searching and introspection.

The day that changed his life began, oddly enough, on a pleasant note. He actually found the paper folded and dry on his doorstep, instead of at the curb and dripping with due. The milk carton was not yet past its due and the cereal box actually filled. So, for the first time in a long while, it was with a smile and jaunty bounce in his step that he drove to work and settled into the mountain of paperwork that was waiting for him.

It was midmorning and he had just had his first coffee break of the day when the Rookie Izzy Rossi, came in with a perp unlike any the precinct has seen in a long time.

For one thing, he wasn't leering at Rossi. That made him memorable enough. The rookie is small-boned and delicate looking with her neatly pinned dark chocolate hair and smooth caramel colored skin. Her pretty features made her a victim of constant lewd propositions from the felons she hauled into the precinct, male and female alike. But unlike the usual frown or derisive smirk on her pouty lips, for the first time, Rossi was actually smiling when she hauled in her newest catch. The first thought that flashed through him was that the man she got must've been caught in a pretty amusing and perhaps unusual situation. _Or it could be the suit_, he mused.

Sure they've had their share of expensively dressed men who sauntered inside the precinct like as if they owned it and every cop in it, but this one seemed very different. Yes, he was just as elegantly dressed as any Upper East Sider hauled into the slammer, but whereas the others had shock, denial or belligerence in their faces, this one had quiet interest, as if the act of being arrested is just one more thing in his bucket list and he's curious to see how it pans out. He certainly didn't resist the arresting officers' hand, giving the rookie a shy smile and a small nod when she led him to the holding cell.

There was also the curious fact that he had handcuffs on him. That in itself wasn't unusual, except that the police normally employ plastic wrist ties and no longer the metal cuffs except for special cases. The fact that his hands were bound in front of him rather than behind him is also another point to wonder. He decided that the mystery would be solved as soon as she brings him closer to where he was. Gathering his courage and donning his affable professional mask, he nodded to the rookie when she finally came close.

"Hey there Izzy. New haul?"

"Yep. Just off 11th and Club Row."

He shook his head in wonder. "Yaikks…You sure like living on the edge. Heard there was a bust going down there right? Did it finally wrap up?"

Izzy frowned, her gaze swiveling to the notice board that alerted everyone whenever there was anything big going on.

"Bust? I didn't see anything unusual during my beat. Heard lots of sirens to be sure, but nothing like that. You sure there was one today?"

He scratched his head and looked down at the big book that contained all the information for the day's bookings, avoiding her questioning gaze.

"That what I heard but what do we know? Organized Crime guys don't usually share. So, where is your pretty little catch headed?"

She flashed him a small smile. "Cute, Bod. Anyways, where's Carl? Wasn't he the desk monkey for today?"

"Yeah but he came down with something and I was next in line. So where should I put him?" He opened the book to the current page and filled in the date, arresting officer and time when he noticed that she wasn't answering. "Izzy?"

"Holding."

"Holding?" Jameson glanced at the young man standing quietly next to Izzy and wondered why he was looking at them intently, as if he was carefully listening to the words they've been exchanging for further reference. "He's making bail already?"

"Not that I know off but when I called on ahead with his name, someone called back and said to keep him there. I'm just a peon right now so I do what I'm told."

She looked over at her collar and the young man gave her a small bow once more. For some reason, Izzy felt the faintest sensation of shyness and had to fight the urge to blush.

"Yeah. You and me both. Anyways, no matter what I still need a record of his arrest. Whether he walks or not isn't our deal, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. This is the first time I've heard of such an order you know."

"It happens. When we have big fishes who doesn't want anything to mar their reputation or have something in the books that would later come back and bite them in the butt."

"So, I'm guessing I hauled someone like that. I think he's some kind of foreigner though. He spoke English with a funny accent." she murmured thoughtfully.

"Then I guess that might be it. Might be a diplomat's kid who got lost. Alrighty. Just sign in him here and you can go and grab some grub. You can finish processing him later."

"Thanks man. You sure you'll be ok here all by your lonesome?"

"Yes. Scotts will be here soon and I'll have company but I don't think we'll have a lot of activity today. It's been kinda slow morning actually."

"Well, maybe you'll get some excitement later."

"Yeah, maybe I will. See you later Izzy."

On hindsight he wished he could've recalled those cavalierly tossed words. The slow morning that came before the pandemonium that followed would haunt him for the rest of his career. And it would take three therapists, 2 hypnotists and the forceful administration of a mentalist's skill to finally get over his fear of men in suits. It would take an additional ten years before he could look at metal pipes and not think of the gates of hell.

The sound of breaking glass brought a wave of officers into the conference area, including the two detectives that were roped into explaining the current detainee's situation. Shocked at the sight of one decimated wall where once pristine glass stood, they could only gape at the chagrined faces of the young men gathered around the space.

With his signature affableness and charisma, Yamamoto immediately took charge of the highly volatile situation pushing and pulling the rest of their companions away from the site of the destroyed conference room and towards the front entrance as Gokudera worked hard at explaining what had occurred and promising that it was all an accident and that they would be more than happy to pay to repair whatever the cost of the glass that their member had unintentionally destroyed. The bewildered policemen could only look on in shock as the silver haired man hauled the smiling Asian man close and rattled off instructions to oversee the transfer of their boss to another room before stalking off to begin his tirade on their doomed comrades.

Detectives Esposito and Costa looked at each other and wondered if it would be a breach of etiquette if they gave in to the urge to laugh at the clearly harried and mortified Executive Assistant. They decided to wait out the situation and watched as the grinning Asian explained his request for another room and soothed their boss, reassuring him that everything was under control, chatting animatedly as the brunette cast worried glances at his chaotic staff. The smiling man left his boss with the crying young boy who refused to be budge from the man's side. Once the young brunette (_and his silent, menacing shadow_) moved into the only other empty room (_which coincidence would have it, **was** the interrogation room_), the detectives started questioning the young man.

"Hey, young man, er—Mr. Takeshi was it?"

"Ah. Ha-ha, no Takeshi is my first name Sir. Yamamoto is my family name."

"Oh, is that so. Well forgive me then Mr. Yamamoto."

"Ha-ha-ha…that's okay. By the way Sir, I hope you don't mind Lambo keeping our Boss company. He's our boss' ward and he was very worried."

"Your boss seems to be a bit too young himself to have other children to take care of."

"Ah he has three legal wards. He takes care of them since their own family situation's less than ideal. Lambo can stay, can't he?"

The detectives shared a look and decided to take a gander at the young boy currently bawling his eyes out. The curly hair and cow print shirt looked incongruous against the young man's expensive suit but there was no denying the genuine affection on the brunette's russet eyes as he looked at the sniffing boy in in his lap.

"Ah, I guess. They're not going to go anywhere…"

"Thank you Sir. By the way, do you have a question for me? I'm assuming that's why you're holding me here…?" he offered tentatively and the older detective scrambled to acquiesce.

"Yes, of course if you don't mind, that is?"

_Of course he would mind_, Costa rolled his eyes at his much older partner. _What kind of person doesn't mind the police sniffing at him, giving him the third degree just because they have nothing to work with_? However, the young man surprised them by agreeing readily enough.

"Oh, sure thing. By the way, I apologize for not properly introducing myself. I am Takeshi Yamamoto, and you are…?"

"I'm Detective Esposito and this." he jerked his thumb towards his younger partner who again rolled his eyes before nodding briefly in greeting, "Is my partner Detective Costa. We're helping out Special Inspector De Luca and we're wondering if you could explain a few things for us."

"I'd be glad to give any assistance I could detectives. Ask away."

The younger detective cast another meaningful look at his partner, silently asking and confirming that it was alright for him to take lead. The older detective gave an imperceptible nod. Costa reached into his coat pocket, when something brushed up against his senses.

**_He was being watched._**

Covering his unease with enviable nonchalance, he fumbled with his notes, looking for the elusive notepad, using his movement to casual scan his surrounding when his eyes fell across a pair of jewel-bright, sharp hazel eyes. His eyes widened in awareness when he realized that despite the easy smile and amiable nature, the young Asian's eyes tracked their every move—his, his partner and even the policemen in his immediate vicinity—with alarming thoroughness.

**_Holy smoking Georgia weed and a half…this boy is no smiling, easy going lamb. This boy's a viper lying in the grass and no doubt about it._**

With some effort, his voice finally came out of his suddenly dried throat. He took a quick sip from his coffee cup and picked up the notepad once more, pen at the ready.

"The young brunette inside is…?"

"He's our boss. He's also my best friend."

"Is he now? And you don't mind working for him?"

"Not at all."

"And this business of yours?"

The answer came swiftly and with hardly any pause. Clearly it was a common enough query that it required no active though.

"International Security and Finance."

"Ah, that's right. And the white haired newcomer? Is he also working for that young man?"

"Ah, Senpai? Yes, he is. He also works with us."

"May I ask what his job description is?"

"Senpai is our Chief Liaison. He is in charge of dealings with other members in our company."

"That man is your Liaison Officer?" Costa clarified. When the young man simply nodded and smiled even brighter than before, he couldn't help but ask again. "That man? Liaison? As your company's envoy?"

"Yep. He's the best with diplomacy."

"_You don't say_."


	4. Chaos and ClusterFschk II

_**Authors Note:**_ Here's the rest of my insanity…Part II. Can I beg for mercy again?

* * *

**COMPANIONS, CHAOS & CLUSTERf*CK - AGAIN...**

"_**It turns out that an eerie type of chaos can lurk just behind a facade of order **_

_**- and yet, deep inside the chaos lurks an even eerier type of order"**_

_- Douglas Hofstadter_

* * *

_Gokudera tried desperately to hold on to his temper_. He has learned to master his fiery temper since high school. He has come a long way since being the hot-headed, right-hand man wanna-be. But he never thought he would come so close to being like one of his beloved dynamites, but somehow, right about now, if someone said or did something else to set him off, he just might do what I-pin used to and explored in a fiery hail of hell. He would trade just about everything to get a few of his sticks and shove them up a certain idiot's ass. But before he could give vent to his mounting frustration, a woman's voice effectively silenced his growing ire. The venom in her voice literally paralyzed those around her. Her eyes spitted flames that nearly rivaled the ones controlled by the guardians that everyone present wondered just what kind she possessed.

_**"WHAT . THE . HELL . DID. YOU. DO ?!**" _she growled. "I turn my back on you for a minute and you're already showering people with broken glass!" When her eyes caught sight of a very familiar figure she nearly snarled in outrage. "You?! **_What the hell is wrong with you people? Can't you be a normal tourist for just one freaking day?"_**

The silver head bristled at the obvious insult. "There's nothing wrong with us wench-!"

"Hana! You're here! That's perfect. Where in the extreme where you?"

"I was trying to find out what are the charges—wait! Don't change the subject—what the hell just happened?"

"Never mind that to the extreme. I need you to explain to these folks that it was an accident to the extreme and that I didn't mean any harm."

"What to do you mean never mind? There's a busted wall next to you inside a precinct! How is this not a problem?" she was about to say more when she heard yet another sickeningly familiar voice speak behind her.

"Oi! Kurokawa!"

"Baseball boy is here too? Do you monkeys always stick together?" she muttered in exasperation, glaring continuously at the white haired man pacing next to her.

"Maa, maa, never mind that. What are you doing here?"

"I was under the mistaken belief that I was enjoying my vacation from my crazy job and this crazy idiot when I found him and that stupid cow kid wandering in Central Park."she jerked a thumb towards the agitated boxer and glared at him some more when he tried to explain again.

"Look, I wasn't being stupid—"

"Central Park? What were you doing there Sempai?"

"Taking an extreme short-cut!"

"In the opposite direction? You stupid, Turf Head!"

"Oi Octopus Head what in the extreme is your problem?"

Gokudera Hayato almost swallowed his tongue in outrage. The barrage of words that flew past his lips was so heated that it nearly tore a strip off Ryouhei's hide and definitely rivaled Squalo at his worst.

"_**What the hell do you mean what's my problem? You idiot! You just decimated a wall. You destroyed public property? Do you have a death wish you bloody fool or do you just want to join him in there?!"**_ he bellowed.

But to his eternal chagrin, the white haired boxer merely stared at him and answered laconically.

"Not at all in the extreme unless it becomes necessary!"

* * *

Kurokawa Hana kept massaged her aching temple and considered how best control her own temper. She was better than this band of demented monkeys, she reminded herself._ She would not stoop to their level_. _**She would NOT, even if it killed her**._ With a defeated sigh, she turned towards Ryouhei and forced the two arguing men to halt their verbal war.

"For once, I can actually understand why Monkey boy here calls you Turf Head. Only something as tough and as resilient as Astroturf could grow on that barren space you call a brain."

Ryouhei sputtered indignantly, "Hey! Wait an extreme minute here Hana-!"

"Shut it. When I come back you will tell me why you raced all the way down here and where the hell your clueless leader is."

Gokudera took a deep breath, preparing to tear off the stupid Turf Head's ear again when he felt someone take a hold of his shoulders and pushed him back into the chair. Glaring at the smiling culprit, he tried to get some sense of order in what was quickly deteriorating situation.

"Maa, maa, come on everyone, take a seat. Let's take a breather and figure things out. This might take a minute. The arresting officer stepped out for lunch. According to those two nice detectives, we need to have her back before we can get him out."

Hana groaned in exasperation when she finally realized why her stupid Turf Head was racing towards the precinct.

"That Dame-idiot is here, isn't he?"

To her annoyance the baseball player simply grinned but there was a clear and unmistakable warning in his cheerful voice.

"He's here, yes. But Kurokawa-san, he isn't '_dame'_ okay?"

Hana shrugged and nodded, heeding the unspoken reproof. "And I take it that you need to get him out of here as soon as possible?"

Gokudera blew an exhausted breath before nodding wearily.

"That's the ideal situation. We won't be going anywhere unless we can clear this. And it must be before anyone who shouldn't know could find out. So, Turf Head, where are those shitty lawyers?"

"Should be here soon. Traffic was hell, getting here takes some time. I called the law firm and told them to hurry or you'll bomb their assess to kingdom come. I would've thought they'd be here by now."

"I haven't seen hair or hide of the damned bastards. When I get my hands on them I would kill them myself."

"Maa, maa…maybe Hibari-Sempai could just talk with them."

As one the assembled group turned towards the smiling Asian and gave him a look. When he only continued to flash them his signature smile, Gokudera shook his head and muttered disbelievingly, "You are really are something else, you Sword Freak."

"Just giving a suggestion 'Dera."

"Don't call me that you idiot. This is serious."

"I know it is."

Hana stared at the young men gathered around them and felt their growing unease and tension. Consigning her vacation and any semblance of normalcy to her life to the farthest region of hell, she stood up and headed towards the processing area, speaking quietly as she walked away,

"Know what, never mind that; I'll deal with the police. I'll ask for the cost of repairs and explain the situation myself. While I'm at it, I'll ask the booking officer about his charges and see that they're dropped. While I'm away, do me a favor and try not to break anything else would you? And while you're at it, get that stupid cow out of the interrogation room. I don't want to have to explain that one too."

As she walked towards the shocked faces of the gathered and gawking members of the once quiet precinct and explained what had occurred while flashing her Barrister license, the others looked on, for once at a loss for words. Yamamoto thought it best to fetch Lambo now that the word war was over and was already out of earshot when Gokudera suddenly remembered the wicked laughter that he heard just moments after Ryouhei decimated the wall. He was about to ask the white haired man when he noticed the figure of a blue-clad cop standing just a step or two behind the baseball nut. Tensing immediately, he reached into his jacket pocket when that unmistakable laugh echoed once more.

"Kukukuku…."

* * *

Gokudera could feel the onslaught of migraine just coming in to mess with his head. He wished to God he had taken up the Bronco's invitation to get drunk. Then he could have an excuse for having a really shitty day.

"**_Ah hell_**. In addition to this already A-class cluster fuck of a day, now, you're here. And I actually thought I was just hallucinating from all the noise Turf Head was making."

"Oi is that Mukuro in the extreme?"

"Who else could it be Sunny-chan?"

"Don't call him creepy names you stupid Pineapple Head."

The smiling policeman flashed a smile before opening those distinctive heterochromic eyes. He tipped his hat genially before sitting from across the already aggravated Storm.

"Now, now is that anyway to talk to a beloved comrade in arms, Storm-kun?"

"Did you get lost in the extreme too Mukuro? See, Octopus Head, I'm not the only one."

"Shut up Turf Head. Do tell…why in hell are you here?"

The Mist actually blinked at him before asking as if in bewilderment, an odd look of surprise flashing in his curious eyes before the usual amusement replaced them.

"Why else should I be here but to express my concern for our cherished fearless leader."

"You wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this

"Well, in that regard you're quite right. But I do sympathize in our baby boss' incarceration woes. No one likes being chained though I do admit he carries it off with certain panache. And as such I bring tidings."

A frisson of dread brushed along Gokudera's spine and his hand automatically reached in to his pocket and grabbed a fresh pack. At the rate he's going, he might just break his record of three packs in a day. And that was when they had to finagle a hostile takeover over a particularly nasty cartel that kidnapped and held hostage a hundred local women and children. Puffing on the newly replenished stick he sighed in resignation and asked what he knew would be bad news.

**_"Oh god what now?"_**

The mist gave him a smile that made some of the other policemen close enough to see whimper in fear.

"The sunny baby wanted me to inform you that the gathering will be moved tonight. He expects the preparations to be well on its way."

Gokudera banged his head on the wall behind him and allowed himself a to mutter for an entire minute nothing but a litany of curses that would curdle his innocent boss' ears had he been close enough to hear, ending it with something emphatic and truly soul-felt.

**"This is it.** _Cluster-A-Fucking day_. Kill me right now. Somebody just please shoot me right now."

He would've said more if he hadn't been nearly knocked into the floor by the sudden weight of a wailing, and hysterical ten year old hell bent on gaining his immediate attention. Ryouhei tried to grab the barreling boy but he neatly avoided the boxers grasp.

"Oi Lambo-!"

"What the hell-!Lambo! The fuck is wrong with you?"

Before he could get another word edgewise, the young boy seized the lapels of the silver heads suit and proceeded to climb into his lap and shout at him while screaming and crying his questions.

"Why is he cuffed? Why is Big Brother wearing handcuffs? Why is he in that room? He can't go to jail! I-pin will kill me!"

Yamamoto tried to calm the wailing afro-hair when the young boy turned on him too—eyes filled with tears and palpable panic.

"Calm down, Lambo. I-pin-chan won't kill you. Gokudera is doing everything to get him out okay?"

"You don't understand Baseball-niisan. If I-pin knows Big Brother ended up in jail then Maman will know. Maman will cry and if Maman cries, HE will ask questions and when he finds out what happened HE will kill us! Don't you understand? So do something!"

With that, the assembled group blanched and a sickly color replaced their ruddy complexion. For a full minute, none of them managed to speak as the full implication of what their younger companion's statement swept through their consciousness. A gulp and another hastily lighted cigarette later, the young silver head spoke once more, this time with grim determination in his voice.

"I don't know how I could say this but the stupid cow is right. We need to settle this as quickly as possible. We can't waste any more time. Ryouhei, go and find Hana and find out what's the status on his arrest."

"You need to get him out of that small room. I don't want big brother in there anymore. He can't even give proper hugs like that."

"Shut it, cow-head. We're doing the best that we can okay? So just sit tight and—"

"Gokudera!"

"What you Baseball freak! Can't you see I'm talking to—"

"Gokudera, I think you better talk to Mukuro. I think something odd is going on."

Gokudera closed his eyes as if in pain. He didn't want to look anymore. He really didn't. The look on the Mist's current host's face did not bode well and whatever internal thing he did and saw while he was doing it was not something that bode well for any one, least of all, them. The shit-eating grin that the Mist's host flashed him coupled with Yamamoto's encouraging nod did not reassure him even the least bit.

"What shit is this now?"

"The proverbial one that hits the fan, so to speak. You have problem coming in a bit Storm. I believe my beloved Chrome is heading this way. And she, darling girl that she is, brought the ranking Prince and that adorable little Triad-trained assassin of yours with her."

"_**Ah fuck it."**_ With a growl, he reached for his phone and punched in a number. Barely waiting for the ring to stop, he rattled off just five words.

"** SKYLARK. CHROME. KIDS. CUFF. NOW."**

* * *

Inside the interrogation room something unspeakably horrifying just revealed itself to the hapless Officer Jameson. Something changed; something big happened after the heretofore quiet young man lifted his phone to his ears and listened to whoever it was on the other end of the line. An unholy gleam ignited in the previous indifferent Eurasian's eyes that made Jameson think of what a vision of standing on the edge of hell could possibly look like. It was not—at all—a sight he would be likely to forget—ever. He almost bolted when the man moved from his perch against a far corner and approached him.

"Y-yes? Do you want anything?"

"I need you to remove the cuffs now. We will be leaving soon."

"I-I can't do that? I-I don't have any orders y-yet-t—"

"I don't think you understood me. I want you to remove those cuffs. Now."

"I-I w-w-wish I c-could b-but I-I don't have a key with me."

To his chagrin, the Eurasian young man snorted in derision at his claim.

"Don't lie. It's unseemly in an adult. I know for a fact that New York Policemen carry their keys behind their badges."

Jameson blanched at this display of uncanny knowledge regarding police enforcement predilections. He tried to gather his thought and tried to explain once more his current predicament.

"I used to c-carry one w-with me b-but I l-lost it the other day and I-I h-h-haven't r-r-eplaced it yet."

"Is that so? Well then, I guess I better take care of the matter myself."

"S-sir! Y-you c-can't do that!"

Jameson tried to restrain the man by putting up one of his hand in warning while keeping the other close to his service firearm. The Eurasian raised a hand to his cheek and ordered in a soft undertone.

"Move."

"W-what?! No, sir, please wait. As s-soon as the charges are cleared, your f-friend here could go and—eep!"

The young officers whimpered in fear as he watched two gleaming metal sticks—_the ones that looked like old-fashioned nightsticks carried by police before_—appear as if by magic in the Eurasian's hand. He then casually picked up the brunette's bound hands, placed them on the table and glanced at his supposed boss only once. He didn't say a single word, merely nodded and with a move too quick for the policeman's eyes to even follow, the man whirled one of the metal sticks and promptly shattered the metal links in one fell swoop. The scraps of metal fell like tinny rain inside the echoing chamber of the interrogation room.

Jameson could only watch, transfixed as the brunette looked ruefully at his companion whilst rubbing sore wrists. He then pushed back his chair, and knelt down and proceeded to pick up the pieces of fragmented metal, wrapping them up in his silk handkerchief and putting them in his inner jacket pocket before walking towards his erstwhile silent guard and keeper.

"Was that really necessary?"

The response, when it came, was short and to the point.

"Yes."

With a sigh the brunette turned to the shell-shocked guard and gave the man a short bow.

"I apologize for the shock. You needn't worry. I will remain here. But the handcuffs were a trifle stifling. Do forgive him for acting so hastily. He means no harm."

Had he known it, the brunette shouldn't have bothered. Officer Jameson was in no position to appreciate his heartfelt words. Because the said officer had already fainted dead away. And though he wasn't aware of it, it was due to Officer Jameson's actuation that the Special Inspector De Luca finally had his first clue on just who he netted that fateful day.


	5. Thrice in Threes

**Authors Note**: Akira Amano is a god with a really wicked sense of humor. Just came from reading the manga and I am stoked. This chapter is dedicated to the ones who read and kept on re-reading my work—especially this one—in the hopes that I would finally finish it. Good news, I am nearly done with the last chapter and this may be best described as the "after dinner coffee" before I serve my "just desserts". ^_^

**Additional Note:** I don't live in the US so I would like to apologize to New York's Finest. I don't mean any offense and I don't mean to make it sound (or read) like they're a bunch of bumbling—you get my point. So allow me this—consider it creative license and don't arrest me. I'm just a whiny writer who uses fiction as a cheap and reliable means of therapy.

Onwards then…

* * *

**THRICE IN THREES…**

_**"Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse."**_

_3rd Murphy's Law_

* * *

_People often say good things come in threes. Or that the third time more often than not is the charm. Murphy's first law states, however, that if anything could go wrong, chances are it probably would. Because the strange and simple truth is life will never run out of things that can go wrong. And in the case of that fateful day in Precinct 27—well, let's just say some three things should never mix with dear old crabby Murphy._

* * *

Detective Esposito trusted his partner's instinct. Hell, he trained the boy and pretty much acted like a father to him, showing him the ropes, teaching him the best techniques, giving him what he needed to grow and cope in their particular line of work. So when they decided to indulge the inspector's odd request and interview the smiling young man in order to get more information about the young perp that caught his eye, they did it more or less to get answers for their own curiosity.

The young men were an intriguing, confusing mix of signals. On the surface they appeared exactly as they claimed—rich, young, articulate members of the privileged. They wore their clothes with casual ease and disinterest, as if wearing the two-thousand dollar suit is a common enough occurrence. They spoke several languages obviously since they switched from one to another with enviable fluency. They sat amidst the hubbub and kerfuffle of a precinct with the same nonchalant air one might display if they were simply lounging in a less than A-rated clubroom.

And yet there were those instances when their words took on a subtly different tone and meaning. Their language, while overtly polite and in English when speaking to the police, exuded subterfuge and coded nuance when they spoke in either Italian or Japanese. Their bodies didn't seem quite as relaxed as they projected for there was compactness to their very grace—like someone trained in something more dangerous than dancing or sports. They maintained a good defensive stance that could easily shift into something not quite as harmless and they managed to keep enough space around each other, their arms and legs free from unnecessary obstruction, as they were making sure that they wouldn't accidentally bump against each other if the need arose.

But perhaps nothing gave them away more than their eyes.

And then there were those tell-tale odd eyes. They had really sharp eyes. Not glaring, not belligerent, not even condescending—they didn't judge their environment and those within their immediate sphere. They did not possess the eyes of jaded, spoiled aristocrats so used to being pampered and succored by those around them.

The more apt—indeed the only correct assessment one could derive from their gazes is that they are alert. They kept on watching everyone round them with studious caution. They are tracking and gauging everyone's movement, keeping a mental tally of who was around, what they were doing and yet all the while keeping most of their focus on the brunette they all came for and the nearest, closest avenue of exits.

The latter focus was more subtle and they only did it when they first entered the precinct. It was as if they could only relax once they've mapped out exits and entrances in the place they found themselves in. He would've dismissed the matter as paranoia except that even the child they had with him did that subtle eyes sweep around the place when he came and only settled down when he was near any of the young men.

And there was also something odd about their hands. The boys had been in the precinct for a full half an hour already and it took him a full ten minutes to actually realize what it was.

_Their hands were scarred. Each and every one of them_. From the young boy that continued to hiccup pitifully in the lap of the white haired glass breaker, the silver haired Executive Assistant that smoked like cigarettes were about to go extinct, to the smiling, friendly man that his partner was currently chatting with. Their hands—palm, knuckle, fingers—all of it bore some kind of scar—both small and fading to deep and just healing.

For someone so privileged, they didn't seem to care that they have hands more suited to laborers and blue collar guys than the soft, lily white ones usually expected from someone of their class. The only sign that their hands are the hands of someone used to the finer things in life are those antique looking signet rings they all seem to be wearing.

_**Rings…**They were all wearing rings…old, intricately engraved styles rings…_

From somewhere deep in his mind a memory stirred. In one of the endless lectures he had attended a long time ago...one of those inter division things the Chief was so found of…it was a lecture given by the Organized Crime division on the most prominent names of those involved in the famiglias and how to recognize them.

There was one family there, an entire lecture devoted solely to an old name whose upper echelons were distinguished for having rings of a particular and intricate design. A set of rings with stones worn by the chosen guardians for the famiglia's head. Except for the head whose ring contained slivers of all the colored stones and had the family insignia set in it.

A quick glance revealed that the smiling young man did wear one on his left finger. He saw it when the man reached back to touch the wooden sword he carried on his person. There was also one on the hand that held the lighted cigarette of the clearly agitated silver head. A policeman stopped close by and offered a cup of water to the crying boy and the white haired man that cradled him revealed his own ring when he took the cup instead.

_**Three rings…**_

Detective Esposito found himself walking into the small viewing area that peeked into the interrogation room just minutes before the fateful act that would trigger the end of that long day and saw the tell-tale flash of a similar looking ring on the right hand of the stoic looking Eurasian that continued to stand guard over his supposed Boss.

As for the boss kid himself, it took a while before the man moved his hands enough to reveal his hand and when it happened, Detective Esposito could only groan. The cuffs restricted his hands mobility and it certainly didn't help that he was sitting down with his hands on his lap. The only hand he could see clearly was bare but there was some shadowy outline on the other. It was slight, but when the brunette shifted once more on his seat, he saw the unmistakable glint of something metallic there.

It may not be much but something tells him it was the kind of thing Special Inspector De Luca was looking for. It was the exact moment when Detective Esposito stepped out of the viewing room that he saw Officer Rossi walk back in to the precinct after her lunch hour and Hibari lifted his phone to listen to Gokudera Hayato's frantic instructions about their incoming guests that three very important things happened right after those fateful handcuffs broke.

_One, the young man's lawyers finally arrived._

_Two, Inspector De Luca finally found someone who actually recognized the name Tsunayoshi Sawada and explained to him why it sounded so familiar._

_Three, a renegade faction of the Fenucci Brothers Gang burst into the precinct demanding to see the head of the Organized Crime and shouting out a name and then grabbing the nearest individual they saw and held him as a hostage._


	6. Lock, Stock, & Flaming Barrel

Authors Note: KHR doesn't belong to me—it's Akira Amano's. However every ounce of madness in this thing—does. Just one more chapter to go and then maybe, if I reach 100 reviews, I will add the Omake I made just because it seemed like a good thing at the time.

To my readers, reviewers and non-flamers…you all have my undying gratitude and appreciation for all your gracious words and kindness. Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy days to read this paltry attempt at writing.

* * *

**LOCK, STOCK AND FLAMING BARREL**

_**"If you are going through hell, keep going." **_

_- Sir Winston Churchill_

* * *

Cavallone Regent Romario prided himself in doing the best he could for his famiglia and his young Master. The boss maybe a rebel when he was younger, a reluctant leader to be sure, but the years have mellowed out his temperamental nature and strengthened his caring nature to an even greater degree. And no one saw and experience this side of the Cavallone Head more than one good-natured, shy young man his boss loved as a younger brother.

They came to New York, in hopes of assisting the young Decimo in his task and to spend some quality time with the boss' favorite little brother after the matter has been dealt with. So it came as a surprise to see him frothing at the mouth so early in the morning just right after they flew in from Italy on a nonstop private charter. He couldn't figure out what caused his usually unflappable boss to lose his usual composure. It took quite a lot to make the Cavallone Head start cursing in his native Italian with a slew of Japanese mixed in it so early in the morning. Normally when that happens, someone somewhere was close to being erased from the face of the earth or punished very, very thoroughly.

It certainly didn't help that in between his loud and very colorful ranting, he ordered him to call up the most capable lawyers they had on retainer and send them to a small precinct somewhere on 27th Street. It certainly didn't make matters easy when he was specifically ordered to march the lawyers straight into the place and to make sure that they do their job perfectly, and to not leave without his baby brother in their custody all the while not knowing exactly why he was being sent to baby sit lawyers in a federal precinct and what it had to do with the Vongola's beloved heir.

And so with his customary efficiency and tact, he ferried the lawyers to the precinct himself, sat and waited with them patiently as an unforeseen delay caused by a vehicular accident in one of the major streets created a gridlock on traffic, and delivered them safe and sound to hands of the awaiting guardians.

* * *

The team of lawyers finally arrived. Suited to the hilt and carrying within the four of them the combined IQ that would probably be the sum total of half the denizens of Precinct 27. On any given day this would've meant watching these sharks in smart suits prance like they owned the place and take swipes at the lowly government official they loved to tear to pieces. But alas, today is not one of those days.

Today Romario and the police watching them was sure they would've willingly sold every Armani suit they owned and every pair of bespoke shoes they wore for a chance to escape the combined glare of one royally pissed off teal-eyed, silver headed Executive Assistant and the clearly bloodthirsty grin of one smiling Asian man with oddly cold hazel eyes. Most of them started drafting in their heads their last wills and testaments, all the while praying that the police would for once; find a reason to arrest them instead.

The silver head they knew well enough to be the right-hand man of the Vongola gave them a stare that could rival a basilisk. His deep, grating voice made shivers run up their spine as he puffed on a cigarette held casually in his mouth and regarded each and every one of them with eyes that promised future retribution.

"You're fucking _**late**_. Actually late isn't even the word anymore." He took out the used cigarette and crushed the lighted tip on the sole of his leather shoes. The sizzling sound was oddly loud and seemed to echo inside the gathered lawyers head. "You made him wait here like some _common trash_. That's unforgivable. You bozo's better have a god-damned fucking reason from Hammurabi himself for not showing up when you should have."

The tried to open their lips but no sound could make it past cold frozen lips. Their eyes—the only parts of them that are still mobile swung away from the enraged silver head towards the smiling, albeit equally frightening, young man.

"Maa, maa, now Dera, don't go losing your temper again. At least they're here now and they can clear up matters before the kids get here or anything else becomes any worse."

"Ugh. Don't. Please don't." a female voice reproached. The speaker in question was a female dressed much like the cowering lawyers though certainly she had more self-possession than they do at the moment. The smiling man simply turned to her and asked.

"Don't what Kurokawa?"

"Yeah, I don't understand your statement in the extreme."

The white haired man was treated to her personal version of the basilisk stare but alas, in her case, it made no difference to her impervious, simple natured sometime suitor. She had to resort to a snort and a short sharp rap on his arm.

"Of course you don't. It's just—don't say that things like it can't get any worse. With you guys that's like tempting fate and something worse always happens. So why don't you do yourselves a favor and don't jinx it by saying things like that."

"I think that your warning comes a bit too late as well Kurokawa Hana."

Hana couldn't help but close her eyes in defeat. _This was officially what hell in hand basket looked and felt like._ With a dismayed grimace she opened her eyes and stared at yet another familiar figure. She shook her head in resignation.

"_Lord loves the laws of Draco_, now I know I really did end up in some whacked up version of the Twilight Zone. Or I must be in some kind of waking nightmare. I have to be in one 'cause that's the only explanation as to why I am seeing the former head of the Namimori Discipline Committee here, in this precinct, of all places."

But her words fell on deaf ears as the men surged forward as one towards an even more familiar, though decidedly more welcome figure revealed itself. She couldn't help but smile at the eager, relieved faces of those around her, even that of her idiot some-time suitor and the crybaby cow-child that launched himself into the arms of the brunette the moment he came into view.

"Boss, I apologize for the delay, but the lawyers are finally here…my sincerest apologies-!"

"That's okay, Hayato. I'm sorry I made you worry."

"Tsuna-nii!

"Lambo…no more tears…come now…"

"You are finally of those extreme things! I am glad to the extreme."

"I'm happy too, Onii-san...but-!"

"Yo, Tsuna! You're finally free of those wretched cuffs. Did the officer-!"

Hana noticed the blush that stained the young man's face and the slightly troubled look in his usually clear eyes and sensed that there was an even more disastrous affair just coming ahead. _I knew it. They jinx themselves to hell and back. Oh man._ Sawada always did have an uncanny way of knowing when disaster struck and she has learned to pay attention whenever his usual clear eyes became cloudy.

"Er—not exactly. Hibari had to take matters into his own hand. But he refuses to tell me why he just couldn't wait a minute longer." The brunette cast an inquiring glance at their stone faced school mate but the man simply shrugged and replied laconically.

"I did what I was asked to do. If you want answers, ask someone else. I am growing very bored of this place already."

_Alright then, that's my cue. I am out of here. I don't think my stomach could stand the upcoming train wreck._

With that thought in mind and decision firmly made, she gathered her discarded coat in her arms, fished out the form that the officer she spoke with gave her and tried to hand it to the silver head who stared at her uncomprehendingly. She rolled her eyes, tossed him a wicked grin and gave a short single wave.

"Well, that is it for me. I am not staying here to see this. You people have obviously serious issues to resolve and I blatantly refuse to join your idiocy if you insist on making this an even weirder fiasco than it already is."

Ryouhei sputtered and grabbed her arm. She looked pointedly at his grip and waited for him to speak.

"Hana! You can't leave in the extreme. We still need your extreme help here."

"No you don't you flaming idiot. Here, take this. I already asked for the forms for his release. Have those fancy ass lawyers of yours actually do their job and finish it. They just need to secure the signature of the arresting officer and of course, pay for the fines and damages that you created."

The white haired man sputtered some more and waved his hands wildly, gesturing his disapproval of her decision to leave when the brunette spoke behind her.

"Hana, I'm so sorry—"

Turning, she eyed him quietly, her eyes sweeping across the toned physique that he now sported and the air of calm and dignity he wore even better than his remarkably stylish suit.

"Sawada, it was nice seeing you again. You always manage to surprise me with the changes you've been making to yourself while remaining the same "Dame" boy I knew and appreciated. I don't know how you stand these idiots but trust me when I say this is proof positive that you are no longer 'dame'."

"Thank you for helping out. I really am so sorry for the-!"

When he raised his hands to reach for hers, she did him a favor and met him halfway. She looked into the familiar brown orbs and smiled. It wasn't her usual mocking one; of even the carefree ones she shared with her best friend or the rare ones she gave the idiot turf head. It was a smile of simple affection and shared commiseration for being surrounded by less than normal companions.

"If you say sorry one more time I would ask that idiot to punch you just on principle. I'm happy to help—even if it was unintentional. Please convey my affection to Kyoko but I have to get back to my vacation before this idiot drags me into further chaos. Tell her that I'd call her soon and we can meet up for lunch before I leave New York, ok?"

"Of course. And Hana-san, thank you for all you've done here for me today. I won't forget it."

The brunette gave her a ridiculously sweet smile and Hana couldn't help but laugh in spite of herself.

"You better not." She laughed and gave in to the unusual impulse riding her at the sight of the much improved young man. She kissed his cheek briefly and gave him another smile. "You've learn some charm Sawada, I'll give you that. That's more dangerous that you falling all over the place, I grant you that. Give Kyoko and Haru my best. Bye."

"Hey-! Hana, don't leave in the extreme!"

"Bite me, you idiot. Oh, and by the way, I think I better meet up with the kids. I see them coming up the steps. Go and fix this fiasco of yours Sawada. Then you can come and bring Kyoko along to pick them up from my loft ok?"

"Understood."

"Hey crybaby, come on now. Let's go meet up with the other ragamuffins. I'll even treat you to ice cream."

Lambo looked conflicted. He didn't want to leave his older brother's side, just having been reassured of his safety and freedom, but he also didn't want to miss out on the fun that the others were sure to have.

"Lambo…"

"Tsuna-nii…"

"I will come and get you. I promise. For now, I need you to guard Hana-san and the others for me ok?"

Lambo gazed at his brothers clear brown eyes and felt the last of his indecision vanish. In the near decade long span of years since he's been with the Vongola Famiglia, Tsuna has never broken a promise to him. He happily embraced Tsuna one more time before he skipped towards the waiting Hana and offered her his hand gallantly.

"Come on mean lady. Lambo-sama wants tons and tons of gelato and I don't want to share. You have to buy everyone something else."

"Who're you calling a mean lady you stupid crying cow?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Right back at you! Hey Sawada, do hurry up with this business of yours. Or I just might end up back here for murder."

And with that one final caveat that made every one of the old boys smile Hana walked out of the precinct. The lawyers scrambled to retrieve the documents from her then fled with admirable and considerable haste towards the processing and accounting department, thanking the reprieve from the oppressive glares of the young man's companions.

* * *

"Well that certainly went better than I expected. Boss Dino did not want any civilians further involved in the matter and your amazing lady friend took care of the matter with deft skill. Boss said that if we had to inform the police of exactly who it is they had in their hold would be an unmitigated disaster of the first degree, wouldn't you agree Decimo?"

Tsuna smiled at the bespectacled man who suddenly appeared behind him and nodded his greetings.

"Now, now Romario-san, don't you go giving away the game now that I'm almost home free."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Special Inspector Dominico De Luca was a man trained in old-school ways of policing his cases and believed that technology has a time and place in some of it—but not all of it. He carries on his person a cellular phone, no doubt. But whenever he sinks into one of his hunts and needed to think quietly, he reroutes his calls through an old style pager. When one is doing surveillance and lurking in shadows preparing to jump into a bust, the last thing anyone wants is the dead giveaway of a noisy ring tone.

And so when he felt his pager goes off while he was amidst his run through of contacts and names in his old fashioned paper database, he felt that his break finally came through. What he read however, changed the game for him and brought a true-blue shit-eating grin on his usually fierce aquiline visage. It was certainly startled his secretary enough that she could only stare as he raced out of his tiny, cramped, paper strewn office with nary a word of complaint or remonstration.

The message was simple and succinct. Just the way he likes it: _**They are wearing rings. Colored gems. Intricate. Old.**_

The detectives he put on the scent came through. When this affair is settled, he would see to it that those two cops got a note on their performance review if nothing else. They certainly made his job even more interesting. He had just one more phone call to make. And this time, he is certain it would give him something even greater than the rogue famiglia he had been chasing after all this week.

* * *

Dino Cavallone was not in a happy place. Suffice to say, he was as far from his happy place as could be while remaining in the same fucked up universe. Everything that could possibly go wrong on this particular fool's errand did and had —and it was pissing him off. On top of everything else, his little brother apparently ended up with his innocent, untried self in the worst possible place for anyone in their particular business to land in.

The notice for the termination of the contentious Fenucci Brothers came down through the usual hierarchy of allied families and was officially handed to a branch of the Montovani Famiglia to carry out. However, the head of the famiglia had to be rushed to the hospital due to an unforeseen medical emergency and the Vongola Famiglia, being the head of the alliance, stepped into take the job.

It was unprecedented for such a small matter to be dealt with by the head famiglia and he volunteered the resources of the Cavallone Famiglia but Decimo felt that the Fenucci Brothers had been allowed to do their worse for far too long. They have begun to target children from the local schools as mules for their illegal operations and it was something the Decimo would never ever tolerate.

So, in act similar to a choreographed demonstration of god's wrath, he and his guardians descended upon the unsuspecting Fenucci's and effectively wiped out the entire gang in less than four hours—well ahead of a scheduled raid that they heard from their intelligence network and knew for a fact would've ended up in a bloody disaster. They could not allow cops, foreign ones or otherwise, to suffer despite their usual adversarial roles. In this matter, especially with a situation like the Fenucci's, it was the famiglia's task to clean up after one their own.

However, somewhere along the way something unprecedented occurred. While his guardians spirited away the last of the unconscious—and soon to be incarcerated—members of the decimated Fenucci's, Decimo got picked up by the cops. They didn't know the charge and since no one was around to intervene, it took some time to find exactly where he was brought and what his offense was. It didn't help that while they were scrambling to send out the lawyers to spring him they received a message from one Special Inspector De Luca calling from the same precinct where Tsuna just happened to be in.

Reining in his patience and employing every ounce of his control and cool, he lifted the handset and spoke with his usual carefree flair.

"_Ciao, questo Dino è che parla."_

"_**This is Special Inspector Dominico De Luca from the 27th Precinct. I was wondering if I may speak with Don Cavallone."**_

The voice that answered him was cultured, smooth and just as perfectly controlled as any other boss when they decide that formality is necessary. He amended his early flippancy and spoke in equal tones.

"_Good afternoon Commendatore. How may I help you today?"_

"_**My contacts tell me that you knew something about what went down with the Fenucci Brother's Gang today."**_

The question was only mildly reproachful and carefully nuanced. Dino felt some of his tension relax. Instincts told him the man on the other line was no fool. It would not do to play mind games with him until a clearer picture of what he knew and what he might do could be established. This man had a very valuable commodity in his hands and it would not do to provoke him into discovering it.

"_Are you fishing for answers Commendatore De Luca? If so, you must excuse me. I am rather busy. I have urgent matters to take care of and I am afraid I am pressed for time. As such is true for a busy man as yourself as well."_

"_**Yes, of course. Forgive my intrusion. However, if I may pose one final inquiry to you, Don Cavallone, it would be most helpful."**_

"_I live to serve. Ask your inquiry Commendatore."_

"_**Thank you Signor. There is a young man in my precinct today. Young, slight built, messy brunette locks and brown eyes. He had a retinue of people who came for him. They were all young men, no more than perhaps 23 or so."**_

_No...Younger…younger than that_. The words didn't make it past his lips of course. Though he certainly felt as if each word, each description hammered another nail in the coffin of despair building inside of him. A stray thought flashed through him and made his blood run cold. _Oh Gods, if __**He**__ finds out,__** I**__ will have another return tour to hell and back, goddamnit._ He had to stall for time.

"_Is there a question in your statement Commendatore? I'm afraid-!"_

"_**These young men said they were working for this young brunette, though how that came to be escapes me. However, that is not my question. Please forgive my woolgathering right now. My question is this—do you know which famiglia owns the signet of a ring with colored stones worn by their members?"**_

Dino took a deep breath and sought a means to let it out as slowly and as evenly as possible. He could not allow tension to surface even briefly like a ripple in his voice. He must not give any indication of his shock or dismay. It was the worst possible scenario imaginable and even though he anticipated it, it was still a shock to his system.

"_Any number of famiglias wears rings, some of them for sentimental purposes, some ceremonial and others well, vanity. Surely Commendatore De Luca, you would be in more apt position to note and catalogue such accoutrements especially those worn by your favored people?"_

"_**You are correct in that assumption Don Cavallone, but it pays to always be sure. Who knows if there is a newly formed famiglia I must've missed some time these past few months. One final question, if you'll permit me Signor**_."

"_I don't see how I could stop you from posing your inquiries Commendatore. Though if you ask me another after this, I might have to ask my lawyer to answer for me and for your superiors to answer for you."_

The words, like the Inspector's before, were carefully nuanced. It would not to do to cause offense, true. But it would also not do to appear neither too accommodating nor too eager to please. Dealing with the police in any country is a delicate process and must be choreographed like a state dinner for statesmen with the ego of a complete and utter diva and the predilection of a tyrant.

"_**Understood. A final inquiry then, Don Cavallone."**_

"_A final inquiry then Commendatore De Luca."_

"_**What is your relationship to a young man of Japanese descent by the name of one Tsunayoshi Sawada?"**_

No pause this time. None could be made. Any hesitation, any at all and the game would be over. Nonchalance is the only solution. Dino infused his voice with every amount of his lost boyish flippancy and parried with casual surprise and not a hint of veiled speculation.

"_Why Commendatore, have you been spying on me? Well, if you must know, he is my kouhai. In Japanese it means a younger subordinate or fellow student or initiate I suppose. We share the same tutor and since I am older, I am what he would refer as Senpai. It is a curious relationship and social dynamic in the East."_

"_**I see. Thank you for explaining to me so clearly Don Cavallone. I won't take up anymore of your precious time. Thank you for entertaining my queries."**_

"_Of course. Good bye Commendatore De Luca. Buona giornata,"_

Dino reached out for a bottle of aspirin and shook out two tablets. He tossed them back and took a deep swallow of his espresso. The caffeine shot was already his third and it wasn't even lunch yet. He could only hope two pills would be the last dose he'd have to take today but somehow, he seriously doubts it. The last report to come in after he had dispatched Romario confirmed even worse news—there was a rogue unit of the gang that got away and now they're heading towards the precinct in order to intercept and kidnap the man responsible for their group's annihilation. The idiots were planning to take hostage the most powerful man in the Mafia world.

When he remembered that his little brother's guardians were already in the precinct a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his lips. _Ah well…he's certain Decimo could well afford the expense. Worst case scenario, they might be able to justify to their sadistic tutor that it was an extra-credit assignment. HE's certainly going to like that._


	7. Versions of the Truth

**Authors Note:** Standard Disclaimer applies. KHR in its entirety belongs to one Akira Amano, who unfortunately, is not me. The characters, circumstances, shortcomings and errors in this piece of work, however, are products of my mad imaginings. 6000 +words…wow…

Anyways, this is the final chapter. Writing this story was a rollercoaster ride for me. The responses and reviews always surprise me. Makes me wonder too why people would read what I write since I really don't think it's as good as I would like it to be. Forgive me—I know that sounds bad but I can't shake the feeling. Thank you for accompanying me on this mad dash.

**Oh and one final note:** Yes, I know it was odd for De Luca to call Dino but I made it so because (1) I think the head of Organized Crime would have the means to contact mob bosses if they're really determined. With the advent of technology and whatnot—it's not like they can't track a phone when someone in the government is really determined to get it. I apologize for not getting into the nitty gritty of it all; (2) visiting him or should I say ambushing him in his residence or the place where Dino would've been staying I think would've been much more problematic since De Luca didn't have probable cause and he'd need a warrant for that; (3) I think Dino entertained the call because of the rather special circumstance. I mean this was the man who had reins over Tsuna, he had no reason to antagonize the man further by being evasive and since Romario isn't around to run interference on his behalf, I think considering the circumstances, what he did was feasible.

Sorry if this was confusing for anyone, everyone or someone. I think sometimes—ok most of the time—I forget that people can't just peek inside my head and see the convoluted mess inside of it. So again, my deepest apologies. *bows*

Now, this is the final chapter. As I made mention, I am hoping to gain a final review count of 100. I don't know why—maybe I just want to prove that it could happen. ^-^. The epilogue is already finished though...oh well...I don't know when I will post the epilogue...but i really want you guys to read it too...*pouts*

* * *

**VERSIONS OF THE TRUTH**

"_**Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in memory as the wish to forget it."**_

_Montaigne_

* * *

_The official version was that they were nowhere near the precinct and was actually in one of the city's premier hotels having a peaceful lunch when the attack on Precinct 27 occurred._

_The unofficial mafia version was that Decimo and his guardians were just passing through the area when the fight broke out and they offered to help._

_The unofficial gossip in the mafia grapevine was that the Fenucci Gang tried to kidnap Decimo or one of his wards and the guardians rescued them and then the police were called._

_The actual truth, well as for that, no one bothered to explain it after the first time. No one save the Vongola and the Cavallone, and of course what little remained of the Fenucci's knew the truth about what happened that day. And of course, they're not telling._

* * *

The rogue group escaped the extermination by virtue of being in the wrong place at the right time. Federino Fenucci was a boss wanna-be, a distant Uncle to the actual heads of the Fenucci's, an ambitious old man whose sheer unadulterated lack of imagination is in direct disproportion to his avaricious and violent nature. He had long planned a coup to wrestle leadership from the young Fenucci heirs and used every means in his disposal to undermine and subvert the current bosses of the famiglia. He kept contacts within the local police grapevine to position himself accordingly whenever something big occurred. He was looking for the perfect opportunity to usurp the position he had been coveting since he was old enough to understand that only the boss holds any real power in the famiglia. His patience and cunning, it seemed finally paid off when heard that there would be a raid and he had wanted to take advantage of this information to formulate his longed for coup d'état.

He gathered one hundred of his strongest and most loyal men and ordered them to stay in one of the famiglia owned and controlled motels and wait for his signal to attack. He gave explicit instructions that they were not to stir from the place until he himself gave the final order. He was confident that the tip he received was solid gold and he had to act above suspicion until then.

However, this tyrant-wanna be forgot one thing. He asked where and when the attack would be but he forgot to ask the specific time. And so it came to pass that while he snored loudly in his bed surrounded by his sycophants and bodyguards and fellow plotters, his entire famiglia and the heirs he wanted so badly to overthrow was being decimated by those assigned by the Council of Famiglias.

It was only after they had breakfast and decided to check with their contacts that they finally heard of their lost chances. With the heirs captured and their organization in chaos, there was no benefit in staging a coup. Frustrated, Federino was about to go into hiding when another tip came in and this time, it was as if some benevolent god smiled upon Federino Fenucci.

The police had inadvertently picked up a very special prisoner. How they managed a feat was of little consequence to him. The fact was that they stupidly brought their prize to a small understaffed precinct in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. It seemed that the police had actually no idea just who it was they had in their grasp. With careful planning and using the city's chronic traffic and interlocked streets, he could block the entire path leading to the precinct and isolate it and capture his prize.

**_Yes, this was even better than his original plan. Who cares about some already defunct two-bit famiglia when he could get his hand on the pearl of prize—the prince of the entire Mafia world would be his for the taking. And if he had him—the sky is the limit. He would finally have everything he ever wanted._**

Mobilizing his men, they put his plan into action. Oddly enough, everything worked out in their favor. It was a small matter to create a convenient accident at all the strategic points that led to the precinct. His men outnumbered the police staff in the precinct and he already knows who he needed to speak with to retrieve his prized Prince.

And so it was with a smug grin that Federico Fenucci, 13th in line to inherit as the 13th Fenucci Gang Boss and now de-facto leader of the recently decimated famiglia waltzed in to Precinct 27, ordered one of his men to grab a young man dressed in a good suit standing near the front desk. His underling, a big burly giant of a man named Guiliano, wrapped a huge meaty arm around the young man's neck, held a gun to his head and dragged the youth along with them as Federico raised his voice and demanded to see Special Inspector Dominico De Luca. His eyes glinted wickedly and his jowls quivered in excitement when he saw the familiar figure of the aquiline faced, blue eyed head of the Organized Crime Division walking towards him.

**_He would have his prize very soon. He couldn't wait._**

* * *

Sawada Tsunayoshi didn't know what else could go wrong. Actually he could say the entire day was one of the worst he ever had to live through in a long time. Never since he had put his last battle behind him and gained peaceful control of his famiglia, had he such a trying day. And it wasn't even the fights that aggravated him. No, that was over and done with in a span of less than an hour. No fuss, very little mess, hardly any resistance worth mentioning.

No, his entire trouble this day came after he took care of official famiglia business. He went out to retrieve his personal property that he lost in the course of the fight and found himself being read his rights by a small slightly older foreign woman dressed in the distinctive blues of a police officer. Had it been a man he might've attempted to delay his arrest long enough for his guardians to arrive and ease the matter aside but chivalry played its part and he couldn't honestly, in good conscience, scar such a kind looking lady with the full force of his guardian's mad machinations.

So he allowed himself to be docilely led to an awaiting police car, requesting only that his hand be tied in front of him because of the rings he wore and even allowed the lady to use handcuffs on him since she begged off using plastic ties when she noticed how young he was. When he was brought to the precinct he asked respectfully to have his one phone call and decided to route his calls through Dino since it would provide ample time for his guardians to calm down and finish their tasks before descending like the plague on to the small precinct.

He knew he didn't make a mistake when he saw them arriving one at a time. He wasn't completely surprised when it was Hibari who arrived first because he figured the man had access and information on everyone so it was only to be expected. When he heard each of his guardians arrive and saw how they reacted to the cuffs, he touched with their concern and saddened that they had to see him in such a position. It was a sobering thought that one day one of them could end up being cuffed for one thing or another in their particular line of work.

So he endured and told himself that it was just like any other lesson from his sadistic tutor. Certainly the man would argue that he needs to learn how to keep his composure in face of such a situation. He endured and comforted Lambo when he cried and expressed his gratitude for Hana's unexpected assistance. He was looking forward to walking out of the precinct doors, happy, free and all the more wiser when the unthinkable happened. A group of men rushed into the precinct, declared themselves to be Fenucci's and demanded to see someone named De Luca. Then they proceeded to add insult to future injury by asking that the police hand over the Vongola's boss.

_**But really…why do these things only happened to him?**_

* * *

Hibari Kyouya had a finite amount of patience and tolerance. Most would argue that he didn't even have that much to begin with but he couldn't be bothered to correct their misconception since that would take even more time and that would be just annoying and troublesome.

When his second in command informed him that Sawada Tsunayoshi had been arrested, he actually had to pause for a moment or two to let the message sink in. Kusakabe Tetsuya never referred to Sawada Tsunayoshi as anything but Vongola Decimo after the young man formally inherited his position in the famiglia. Like Hibari himself, he uses names only as a means to disarm an opponent or put them on the offensive. Titles are safer—and in their own rather warped opinion—more appropriate term of respect.

With the information of where the young Omnivore was located firmly on hand, he proceeded to teach the young whelp a lesson on the inconvenience and plain betrayal such a denizen of Namimori should never demonstrate. No one from his beloved hometown should have a permanent record in a foreign land to stain the immaculate reputation of Namimori. Such a blatant affront was simply _unforgivable_.

When he arrived at the small precinct, he was incensed to realize the omnivore actually allowed himself to be chained like common chattel. The sight was oddly disturbing to his sensibilities and had anyone asked why that was so, he doubted he could've explained with any coherence or logic. However the fact that the sight of those slender pale wrists wrapped in steel was an unpleasant one that brought a curious bitter taste to his mouth remained.

To his everlasting annoyance, the Omnivore insisted the steel bands stay. He refuses to dignify those toys with the same things as his own specialized weapon. His handcuffs were literal shackles of fate—the things the Omnivore allowed those idiots to place on his limbs were simple steel circles held by flimsy chains.

He was only slightly mollified by the fact that he alone of the usual Omnivore's retinue was first on the scene. He has long resigned himself to his tedious connection to Sawada's unfortunate choice of herbivores' and sometimes-herbivores but he doesn't have it in him to ever fully enjoy their company. They were tolerable at best and convenient toys and target practice at worst.

He was prepared to wait for only as long as the Omnivore gained his freedom before he bites him to death for bringing dishonor to Namimori. Then he would go back to his the Foundations US headquarters and plan his return to Japan as soon as possible. It was his compromise for this mission with the Vongola and he had no intentions of extending his stay any further.

When he received the frantic call from the temperamental Storm, Hibari felt the frisson of boredom finally lifted. He found curious enjoyment in shattering the fragile pieces of steel into rubble and his amusement was only doubled by the exasperated frown on the Omnivore's face.

He was in the process of leaving when his eyes caught the movement of shadows in one of the blind corners of the small precinct. Some instinct told him that if he stayed long enough, he would find a means to exorcise his frustrated fury. Hiding the wicked glint in his eyes behind the fringe of his hair, he leaned behind a convenient wall and prepared for a fight to break out. He needed the release anyway before returning to his Foundation duties anyways. He missed his morning exercise today when he came to the Omivore's side. It wouldn't do for someone like him to take for granted his health and well-being. And he certainly couldn't put to waste such a golden opportunity to bite to death even more troublemakers. Rules must always be maintained even when he was away from home. It was his duty as a good citizen of Namimori.

So with a smirk and a small step, he launched himself at the man who held the Omnivore and let his tonfas sing their lethal song once more.

* * *

**_The fight—no—the massacre lasted all of five minutes. One hundred armed men, one shocked, blubbering wanna-be Don all fell under the complete and utter vengeance of the combined outrage of the Vongola Famiglia guardians._**

The police didn't even have time to call dispatch for assistance. Not that they could've since Mukuro conveniently unplugged every phone jack in the place and watched grinning in one corner at the resulting mayhem. Not a single one of them, including Officer Rossi, the recently awakened Officer Jameson, Detectives Esposito and Costa and even Special Inspector De Luca had the chance to pull out a single weapon before the melee of bodies and fists flying all over the precinct came to a loud and explosive end. Not a single one of them could even move.

They were left there staring at the sight of what complete and utter destruction four young men could wreak in such a short time when given a free hand. They watched in stupefied horror as the Eurasian man decimated men twice his weight and height with savage swipes of his reinforced tonfas. The young Asian man deftly evaded punched hurled at him with amazing grace, using his wooden sword on his opponents, rendering them unconscious with a single knock to the head. The white haired man punched men left and right with joyous abandon, men dropping dazed and unconscious at his feet. And when the ring leader, the man who identified himself as the 13th head of the Fenucci Brother's Gang tried to escape, they watched in horror as the smoking young silver headed man pull out a small red stick of dynamite, nonchalantly puffed on his cigarette, used it to light the fuse and throw it in the direction of the fleeing older man, demolishing one entire wall of the precinct and causing it to fall on the man in a rain of stony rubble.

**_No one actually blamed Officer Jameson when he fainted once more when the smoke finally cleared. They could only wish they could follow him into oblivion as well._**

* * *

**_The next week..._**

A week after the memorable arrest, Rookie Rossi, Officer Jameson, Detectives Costa and Esposito and Inspector De Luca were called into the Chief's office. They all knew the call was inevitable and they had no defense save the truth. They all knew the Chief understood their situation. He was in the building after all when the entire kerfuffle occurred.

They walked in to the Chief's office only to be redirected by his secretary to one of the private conference rooms normally used by the District Attorneys when they came to collaborate on high profile or sensitive cases. Squaring their shoulders and giving each other commiserating smiles of rueful resignation they preceded into the room after giving the door a rap. On the conference table used for meetings and case briefings were five packages ranging in sizes and the chief sitting at the head of the table with an unfathomable look on his face.

"Chief, we're here. You called for us?"

"Yes, yes, come on in. Close the door behind you, alright?"

"Chief-!"

"Sit down the lot of you and listen up. We have a lot to talk about."

They settled themselves on either side of the Chief, staring at his face and trying to gauge the reason for his strange mood. It was Detective Esposito who decided to try and get the conversation rolling when silence reigned for nearly a full minute already."

"Hey Chief what's all this? You celebrating your birthday and we didn't know about it?"

"No, not my birthday. Though, there will be some celebration I guess. The collar of the precinct of the Fenucci Brother's gang and their current Head is a great coup for us and for Inspector De Luca's division in particular. The D.A. is ecstatic of course."

"So these from those DA guys Chief? I never thought they were so nice."

The chief could only laugh at the statement and shook his head wryly. He picked up a small card and stared at it briefly before looking back at the assembled crew in front of him.

"No, these didn't come from the D.A.'s office. First of all, I want to tell you that whatever you find in this room is yours, free and clear. He went through all the proper channels and consulted all the necessary people in order to give you these. Whatever you did last week, you must have done a hell of a good job."

"What do you mean Chief?" De Luca finally spoke since coming in to the room. The rookie and Officer Jameson only looked on curiously. Detective Costa pointed at the package right in front of him and asked.

"So, Chief, are you saying these are for us?"

"Seems like it. They're tokens of appreciation. Apparently it's a custom in the East when services are rendered and a favor has been granted. Consent of the other party apparently is not needed when bestowing such a boon."

He picked up an expensively printed card and read off it:

"_**For kindness and consideration in the face of a severely trying situation, my Family and I thank you."**_

He put down the card and turned to his subordinates once more. The chief handed a box to the detective next to him.

"He requested that we hand you these tokens. Go on ahead."

* * *

It was Detective Esposito who reached out and received a large flat box that looked like the kind used for high end boutiques. Wondering what it contained, he lifted the top and rifled through the folded tissue paper, the others looking on interestedly and was surprised when he gave out a whistle. There, nestled amidst crackling tissue paper was the unmistakable shape of an expertly and exquisitely tailored, handmade, genuine blue and white pinstriped Italian suit. Lying on top of it was a small box containing custom made silver and blue enamel cuff-links.

"_**Dayam**_…would you look at that beauty. Wonder if it would fit." He lifted the jacket and ran his hand down the lapels. It was made of expensive wool, no doubt about it.

"I think it would. I certainly doubt they'll go to the trouble of sending you an ill-fitting suit."

Detective Costa looked at the suit and thought of how they found out his partners interest in decent threads. He wonders why the gift didn't arouse his normal instinct towards suspicion, despite the fact that aside from himself and the detective's wife no one else knows how much the older detective admired the attire of the Rat Pack.

"What about you? What did you get?"

Costa laughed at the genuine excitement in his partner's voice and looked expectantly at the Chief. The man handed him a similar looking box with a small envelop taped on the face of the box top. He lifted the top and saw another suit, similar in make to his partners, blue and with very thin pinstripes, along with a snowy white linen shirt and dark blue silk tie. He couldn't help but smile when he imagined what people would say if they ever saw them together wearing the sharp duds.

"Well, now really this is just mean. Now, I'm part of the Rat Pack too?"

"Really? Oh wow, that is nice. We'd look real sharp at the next Precinct party."

"Right old man."

He turned towards the small envelop, tore it from the box's surface and slid a finger on the flap to open it. His fingers touched soft narrow slips and he dumped the content in his palm. His partner snorted in laughter at the dumbfounded look in his eyes.

"_What the hell-!"_

"Huh…are those tickets to the Championship at Yankee Stadium?"

"_**Bloody fucking yes."**_

"Thought you told me they were sold out."

"_They were_…I check every freaking day."

"Glad they found some for you, then."

"Old man, you don't understand anything."

"What?!"

He raised the tickets to eye-level and nearly shoved them into his partner's face so he could read the inscription.

"These are tickets to the box just above their dug-out. _**Their bloody dug-out, old man!**_ These are the tickets fans would've sold their very own mothers for."

"Wow…okay…I'm sure your mother would be glad to know that."

"How the hell did they even know I like baseball?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe the fact that the note pad you used when interviewing that smiling young man had a huge sticker of the Yankees on it?"

"Bite me old man. Don't ruin my fantasy for me."

"Fantasy?"

"You know we can't keep any of these." Costa gestured towards the open boxes.

"We can't?"

"Chief, you know that right? Civil servants can't accept tokens or gifts exceeding a certain pittance—about twenty dollars right?"

"That's right."

"Oh man…that's just too bad…"

"But I didn't say you can't accept these. I told you, he went through all the legal process to ensure that you can receive and of course keep these tokens without causing you any problem."

"Then how can we—"

"True, the law states that you cannot accept any token exceeding a preset amount. But the law does not make a ruling on how many individuals can give you that prescribed amount nor can they decide how that amount once collected could be used and on what. So he did follow the rule. He only paid out 20 dollars out of his own pocket. I asked the young man and he said he only asked his immediate family and one other family friend helped. The suits were made by a friend and so didn't have to factor into the cost."

"Begging your pardon for the language but that is damned fucked up smart Chief,"

"It is, isn't it?"

"Just how many people gave him money when he asked for it Chief? I mean, this suit could cost a two thousand easy."

"The young man didn't say. Now, come on, the rest of you still need to receive these things and get them off my bucket list."

* * *

Officer Jameson didn't want to touch his parcel with a ten foot pole. Had it been anyone else other than the Chief himself who handed him the small envelope he might've said no. But he trusted the chief and knew the man wouldn't deliberately give him anything dangerous. So it was with trembling fingers and a throbbing, pounding heart that he pulled out the contents of his "token".

The envelope contained tickets, much like Detective Costa's but his were not for a championship baseball game. They were various tickets—a pair a piece-to a musical scheduled to open in Broadway the following week. One set was for a wine tasting event in Greenwich Village for the opening of a new bar and another was for a week-long cruise on a luxury yacht—the date for which left to the bearer's discretion.

"Holy smokes…!"

The others looked on at the largess and the two detectives did not resist the urge to tease the young police officer. Detective Costa snatched the wine tasting tickets and snickered.

"Hey Bod, I think they want you to relax. And they want you to take someone on some mighty fine date, wining and dining them New York- style, of course."

"You mean high-end New York style wining and dining. These tickets are not anything to sneer at boyo, this play isn't even out and opening night tickets cost the earth." Detective Esposito picked up the cruise tickets and used them to fan himself. "Hey Costa my boy, have you seen these?"

"What about them Old Man?"

"Hey Chief, tell my boy just what is it that Jameson got?"

"Those are all-expense paid cruise—once you get the tickets—everything on the cruise—everything you will use, eat and enjoy is paid for. No cash needed once you're on board."

"DAMN Jameson, you better get yourself a bloody girlfriend and bring her along." Detective Costa clapped a friendly hand on the normally shy officer's back and gave him a grin. Jameson scratched the back of his head thoughtfully before murmuring quietly.

"I-I thought maybe I could give them to my parents. My father just retired from teaching…"

The chief nodded approvingly and the detectives, even the Inspector gave him an approving look. He settled back unto his seat and prepared to watch Rossi open her gift.

* * *

Rossi found the Chief extending towards her a small unmistakable jeweler case and hesitated. She was afraid to see what was inside but she steeled herself and promised that no matter what she would return the gift. Lifting the lid, she looked at the contents and gasped. Inside, nestled against black velvet was an exquisite charm bracelet with small disc bearing the symbol of justice hanging from the thin delicate chain.

"_Oh my…"_

"I do believe that's a custom made silver charm bracelet."

"It's lovely. But Chief isn't this too expensive-!"

"The card said it was silver. The receipt also reflects that it is. He personally mentioned that since he never intended for you to come to any harm for doing your job, this is as much an apology from him and a thank you for doing such a good job. I'm sure it didn't cost him much."

The Chief glanced at Inspector De Luca and saw that the man understood what was left unsaid. Yes, the bracelet was made from pure silver and that in itself, it wasn't that costly. But once you added to the tally the truth that the shimmering bracelet was actually dotted by pave diamonds the price of the total bracelet becomes quite considerable.

* * *

When it came time for De Luca to open his, he hesitated. His token, what there was of it, was a simple flat envelop no longer than perhaps 6 inches, no wider than 8. It was made of obviously expensive, heavy stock of paper, the dense black linen paper shot with silky silvery threads and embossed with the curious emblem of a shield with a single bullet at its center. On the front written in fanciful elegant copperplate was his name and designation.

He couldn't, no matter what custom dictated accept any monetary compensation from the Famiglia—any member, no matter how distant, of a famiglia. He could accept their gratitude, their thanks but nothing more than that.

He is the head of the Organized Crime Division. It would not only be a breach of etiquette and a clear cut defiance of his mandate—_it might_—_would _definitely lead to problems and embarrassing questions later on. Like Caesar's wife, a man in his position must be clear from all accusation and temptation.

For a minute, he weighed the paper in his hands and thought of what power, privilege and pleasure money could provide for his twin sons, both about to enter college. They could use the financial aid, certainly, but he could not use this means—not even for them.

So with a heavy heart and with just the tiniest twinge of regret, he broke open the crimson wax seal and prepared to give his refusal when his eyes caught on the fancy letterings and paused. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and placed the card solemnly on the desk before him. Unhurriedly, he reached into his jacket pocket and extricated a small flat case that held his reading glasses. With apt gravity and deliberation, he lifted the paper once more to peruse its content. The message was brief and to the point; the content infinitely succinct.

_He, Special Inspector Dominico De Luca and a guest or guests of his own choosing, was being cordially invited to the Vongola International Enterprises' Annual Sky Ball. He will be appearing as the host's special guest and will be accorded a private car service to bring him and his companions to the event and a suite at the hotel where the ball will be held is reserved for him to be used at his own convenience and choosing._

The inspector blinked. _And then blinked again._ What he held in his hand may, to the bemusement of the rookies next to him, worth less than what they have received but only someone like him and the Chief could understand the rarity of this particular largess.

"Hm…that is some kind of personal coup Inspector. Congratulations."

As expected the others could only look at the piece of invitation with interest and speculation. Jameson asked the first question, finally relaxing and overcoming his trepidation at being surrounded by so many veterans.

"That's an invitation, right Sir? For some event?"

"Yes. The Sky Ball at the Waldorf Astoria."

Jameson could only blink in awe. "Wow…pretty swanky place."

"Hm. Yeah I guess that's one way to look at it." De Luca continued to look at the card with rapt attention.

Detective Costa glanced at his partner and saw the old man had an introspective look in his eyes. His curiosity was definitely piqued. "What's another way? Is this invitation that special old man? I've never heard of it before."

Detective Esposito took another peek at the invite but didn't reach out for it. "I have but only in passing. Didn't think I'd live to see one in the flesh so to speak. That's because that's a very rare and rather selective event for those involved in the –er, family business."

"What?!" Rossi squeaked and blushed when the others' gaze swung her way. "Sorry, Sirs."

"That's alright Officer."

"That's an invite to a mafia thing?"

Jameson now looked at the card in fear, as if he feared it would come alive and bite him. De Luca gave out a short amused laugh and waved the card in his hand languidly.

"Not just _any_ mafia thing—this is the _crème de la crème_ of the social events for all the Famiglias but it is distinguished by the fact that they allow selected guests from the outside to participate in it. There are no disputes, no fights, no violence, no wheeling and dealing tolerated. For one night of the year, they open their world to a designated few."

Detective Costa's eyes had a glint in them that had his partner shaking his head.

"Oh dear…down boy…"

"What?"

'You're not seriously thinking of crashing that gig and no, you are not invited, remember?"

"Spoilsport." He grinned at his older partner before turning towards his Chief. "So have you ever been in one, Chief?"

"Let me put this way boys and girl, no one, save some select attorney generals, members of foreign parliaments and dignitaries, business moguls and international powerbrokers ever receives an invite to the Sky Ball. I have heard of it sure, but the closest I've come to it is a photograph of the invitation they've used in recent years. No one in this precinct before, save now of course, has even seen an actual invite to the thing."

"That's quite a selection Chief."

"Believe me. Every bureau chief, section chief, captain down to whoever in the totem pole of Organized Crime would sooner sell their spleen to get an invite to this ball. It's the one chance for them to see every one of the heads of all the existing famiglias on the planet. It's a smorgasbord of who's who of the Mafia and the best thing is that the bosses cannot harm anyone invited to the ball."

"_Holy hell in an egg basket_… And that boy just invited you? What kind of string did he pull to get that thing? Sent an actual invite? What about those other bosses? Won't they mind?"

"I don't know. But last I heard whoever hosts the ball can issue special invites to people of their choosing and these would be exempt from any retaliation or harm."

Detective Esposito paused and looked at the Chief. The implication was not lost to him. "Chief…host? That boy has connection to the famiglia hosting the Sky Ball?"

"Family?" Jameson looked at Rossi but her attention was on the Chief.

"Don't tell me…Chief, that young man—he's with the Mafia?!"

Now Jameson paled once more. "They were mafia? That—those boys?" All of them were wise guys?"

The chief sighed and gestured for all of them to return to their seats. The token were put away and an air of seriousness descended upon them. Inspector De Luca remained silent, watching his companions realize exactly who they had in their precinct just a mere seven days ago. The Chief, clearing his throat, spoke once more, his voice this time, was back to its usual brisk tone.

"All of them…well, technically none of them are simple run of the mill Mafioso. They are Vongola."

"Vongola?"

"Yes. And Rossi, that young man you picked up?"

"Yes Chief?"

"Apparently, he is the Vongola Decimo."

"The Vongola Decimo?"

"Yeah…who knew?"

"_**You mean we had him in here?!"**_

Rossi would've said more but the incredulous look on Detective Esposito's face and his uncharacteristic outburst caught her attention. She decided to ask what made him react that way but Detective Costa beat her to the punch.

"Hey old man, what's the matter with you? What does it mean, Decimo anyways?"

"It's Italian for Tenth. The Tenth Head…he's the tenth leader of the famiglia."

Special Inspector De Luca finally spoke. This time, his words did more than just silence Jameson and Rossi. It effectively silenced Costa as well as bring a wry smile unto the older detective and the Chief's face.

"Not just any old run of the mill Mafia family. We're talking about the Family above every other Family in the world. We are talking about the strongest, most powerful Famiglia of the Modern Age. Those boys we got back here, the ones fighting off the Fenucci's are the Tenth Generation Vongola Famiglia guardians."

Rossi found her voice one more. "A-and that sweet young man—?"

"**_Is Vongola Decimo himself_**."


	8. EPILOGUE

Authors Note: And here, it is finally. The last one. Words will never be enough to express my gratitude towards all of you who've read and spent days with me on this piece. It was a cathartic experience and I enjoyed it tremendously. I hope we shall all meet again-in one fic or the next.

* * *

**_BALLS, BONDS & BAIL_**

**_Once men are caught up in an event, they cease to be afraid. Only the unknown frightens men._**

_Antoine de Saint-Exupery_

* * *

**_The Waldorf Astoria_**

**_301 Park Avenue, New York, New York_**

To say that the Mafia knew how to throw a lavish affair is like living in Buckingham Palace and calling it a cottage. There's lavish, there's New York style lavish and sophisticated, there's Los Angeles lavish blingfest, there's Las Vegas over the top lavish and then there's the Underworld Lavish. Louis the Fourteenth with a bit of Caligula opulence seemed more apt to describe the scene that greets someone's eyes when they walked into the Annual Sky Ball.

The Waldorf Astoria's Vanderbilt Room was transformed into a sumptuous recreation of a 14th century Renaissance Palazzo filled with rich velvet draperies and golden ornament, the air buzzing with the sound of laughter and merry making as jesters, court magicians, acrobats and strolling troubadours completed the colorful tableaux. Men in formal evening dinner jackets and women of all ages and races awash with glittering gems and fabulous couture gowns mingled with one another under the light of the Vanderbilt's iconic crystal chandeliers.

Amidst the glittering throng of moneyed elite politicians, celebrities and other illuminati's, awash in the sea of gems, furs and expensive clothing of the privileged guests who circulated and undulated in the ever changing landscape of talks and laughter, there was a lone figure who simply stood at the threshold of the beautifully turned out room and watched and waited.

Special Inspector Dominico De Luca decided to attend the event with Officer Rossi who already expressed her interest in transferring to the Organized Crime Division. The young woman was certainly a fresh face in the scene, not to mention to the fact that appearing with a lady on his arm rather a retinue of men would send a message as effective as carrying around on his person a veritable while flag.

Of course it wasn't like the attractive officer wasn't doing a credible job of observing her surroundings. Digital surveillance of course was not allowed, not that he could get away with it with all the scanners and whatnot surrounding the room but he didn't want to tempt fate and risk committing such a lethal faux pas. The only way to do it was to have her remember every one of the prominent names and faces of the movers and shakers in the Underworld. To his surprised delight when he gave her a crash course on the who's who of the Mafia, the young woman was gifted in memorizing huge of chunks of voluminous information and matching faces to facts. He didn't need any further recommendation than that to consider the young woman's application to his section. Currently the two of them are circulating the room, taking account of who were in attendance and which faces are making their Mafia debut in this glittering otherworldly scene.

After the young lady excused herself to go and refresh herself in one of the powder rooms, he decided to sit at one of the many tables scattered around the huge ballroom and people watch. He was actually engrossed watching the gathered throng, his mind running through familiar names like a mental roll call of names he's heard of but never seen, faces he's seen but had no names to attach it to when he felt someone come up behind him. He turned to look and the speculative look in his eyes intensified when he recognized who it was that approached him. He certainly recognized the young men that surrounded his table.

"Good evening. Special Inspector De Luca. I'm so glad you could make it."

He stood up and gave the figure and his companions a slight bow of greeting, having been instructed that the young man still clung to his Eastern upbringing. The young man bowed back, his eyes showing quite clearly his surprise at the inspector's actions. When he straightened, he gave a slight signal to the two men who accompanied him and then they took a few steps back but stayed close enough to intercept any danger that may come his way.

"You are certainly full of surprises Vongola Decimo."

Inspector De Luca found that his eyes were riveted on his young host. The fresh young face, the messy autumn colored locks and the clear, lambent russet eyes seemed oddly out of place amidst the sharp, dark eyed men that swirled and flowed like upright sharks around them. The young man was certainly dressed like one though. He was dressed in a black and silver pinstriped formal suit, the distinctive crest of the Vongola Famiglia easily seen on the clasps of the immaculate white mantle that covered his shoulders. His hands clasped demurely in front of him.

"I am sorry we have never been formally introduced, sir. My name is Tsunayoshi Sawada. Please, call me Tsuna."

"You know I can't do that Don Vongola, so I too must offer my apology in this regard. Duty, you must understand, compels me to."

"We all have tasks and duties to perform, Sir. But I must admit, for my first taste at incarceration, you and the members of your precinct made it so much more pleasant than I was lead to believe. I however apologize for every inconvenience we have brought upon that place."

"I really think you should.

He simply smiled and nodded, accepting this gentle reproach with even calmer acceptance, as if he knows that it was his due. He gestured the empty chair in front of the one that the inspector previously occupied and inquired softly.

"May I take this seat?"

"Please."

As they sat, facing one another from opposite sides of the small table, De Luca noticed that the silver head and the tall Asian young man moved a tad closer to the young Don though they continued to look out into the crowd, their eyes alert, and their hands held casually to their side.

"I would like to extend my apologies again, Inspector."

"I know I said you should, but then again you already gave us your apology."

This time De Luca watched a bright wash of color heightened the young Don's pale cheeks. Something about the sudden widening of those brown orbs and the way he was frantically waving his hands to denounce his announcement amused the old veteran.

"N-no, please don't think of it that way. M-my mother said that I have made such an inconvenience of myself that I had to compensate—and I couldn't think of what else to give so I asked some of our American aides and—"

"I understand. Thank you Don Vongola, for your kindness but may I advise you not to do it again. From one officer of the law, please, take my advice and consider this act of generosity a one-time thing."

Dominico De Luca told himself that being candid and honest with the young man would yield the best outcome for him. He has heard rumors about the strangely charismatic young don but he never really placed much credence in them. Now however, in the face of the man's very presence, he could only stand as a living testament to the man's undeniable strength and conviction. There was just something so compelling in those big clear russet eyes—something that compelled you to either tell him the truth or promise him your loyalty. Or follow him straight down to hell, if he just asked you to.

"I understand. Thank you for your counsel, Inspector."

"You're welcome, Don Vongola."

"Is Officer Jameson alright now? I'm afraid the entire thing had been hardest for him most of all. "

"He is recovering nicely. He sends his appreciation for the largess you gave him. The commendation he received certainly helped in settling the matter. He did however; express his wish never to be designated in booking for the remainder of his career."

"_**I am sad to hear that. He was a thoroughly pleasant man to watch." **_

The voice that spoke came from apparently nowhere and De Luca thanked his stars he was used to men that lurked in shadows so he didn't show any outward sign of being surprised or flustered. A tall, slim Eurasian man with the eyes of a predator appeared from the shadows as if born from them. The inspector watched warily as the man prowled closer to where the Decimo sat, a cry of warning blossoming on his lips when the young Don simply turned his head and smiled at the feral beast coming towards him.

"I thought you said you couldn't make it tonight Kyouya. But I am happy to see you here."

"Kusakabe Tetsuya forced my hand Omnivore, and made mention that if I make my appearance now, I could fly home earlier."

"I am sad that you would go so soon, but I understand. Inspector, may I introduce Hibari Kyouya, my Cloud Guardian. He also extends his apology for the unavoidable distress he caused Officer Jameson."

"I apologize for no such thing Omnivore. I am here to do what have requested for me to do. No more and no less."

With that the man walked away without so much as a by-your leave to his boss, melting into the crowd. The silver haired man bristled at the Eurasian and muttered a few choice words at his conduct as the tall one merely laughed and admonished his partner to leave the 'skylark' alone. The young boss merely shook his head at the antics of his men and offered another apology to his guest.

"Forgive him, he's just a bit reserved and slightly abrupt. He means no offense. Let me reiterate, I am sorry for the resulting property damage caused by my men. Of course, we will undertake the cost at repairing your facility—"

Inspector De Luca raised his hand and halted the flow of Decimo's words. He waved aside the offer and explained as thoroughly and as best he could the matter at hand.

"No need for that. The collar you have—unwittingly—brought into our midst more than justifies our requisition for funds. If it's all the same to you, we meant no offense, but it would not do for us to take advantage of your means and generosity."

"I understand completely. When I went around looking for a way to express my apologies, I heard that this ball is something you have desired to see. I am only happy I have a chance to provide for you so precipitously."

"You have no idea how much I have wanted to see this affair—just once. I know as an officer of the law that there is nothing I can do here—officially. Forgive for saying this but a chance to study an adversary up close is not a chance I am likely to have again. So despite my better judgment I had to be here."

"Consider yourself welcomed by my famiglia and our allies, if by no one else. Please enjoy yourself and ease your mind, he will watch over you."

"I have no need for—"

The young Vongola Don's eyes looked straight into the inspector's blue ones and something about the way the light shone upon them made the hair on the Inspector's nape stand out. It was as if the young man sitting quietly in front of him suddenly became someone else—someone different. He still looked young, no doubt about that but the air around him shimmered with strength and some intangible air of power that made the Inspector admit that despite the shy, almost feminine air of delicacy to the young man that sat so quietly in front of him, there was power and authority his demeanor. He exuded palpable aura of strength, dignity and gravitas that reminds you that he is the one who claimed the title of Boss of the most powerful, wealthy Famiglia in the world. When he spoke, his voice was mellifluous, soft and utterly unassailable.

"_**Inspector.**_ You are _my honored guest_. You have placed some trust and confidence in me when you came here—of your free will and deliberately made yourself and your subordinate vulnerable in ways you would not have chosen otherwise—so please, allow me this. He will not intrude, and he will not be in your way. Think of him as a silent omniscient guardian angel."

De Luca recalled the way light vanished into the deep purple grey eyes and shook his head ruefully at the clearly disillusioned Don, though he knows his words signaled his defeat and reluctant agreement.

'You forgot _lethal._"

The answering smile the young Decimo gave in turn, assured the inspector that contrary to what he and all the others thought when they look at him, the Vongola Don knew exactly what kind of feral creature he kept as his side.

"_Oh I didn't. I never do._ Have a pleasant evening Inspector. I will see you again at dinner."

"I look forward to it Don Vongola."

* * *

The ensuing dinner of course, could only be described as a feast for all the senses. As the night's revelry continued and his escort for the night expressed concern for lateness of the hour, Special Inspector Dominico De Luca found himself, once again, standing just at the threshold of the Vanderbilt room, waiting for Officer Rossi to collect her coat and bidding farewell to his generous young host.

"Did you have a nice evening Inspector?"

"It's certainly a night to remember, Don Vongola. I may not have the proper words to express what I thought of this chance at a glimpse of your world, but I assure you, it was a learning experience."

"I'm glad you found something worthwhile tonight, Inspector."

Dominico De Luca was not an impulsive man, though he was, to a fault a curious one and so he gave in to the one question that has been plaguing his mind ever since the Vongola Don stepped into his precinct.

"Don Vongola, you have extended a generous gift to me—personally and professionally—tonight, but may I ask you for one small favor."

"Of course, Inspector."

"Permit to ask, what made you commit it. If you hadn't Officer Rossi would not have cause to bring you in."

"Ah…" the young don's eyes twinkled merrily and for the first time tonight, he saw a glimpse of the young man the Decimo must be like beneath the pomp and seriousness, and cold-blooded reality of his chosen path. He smiled self-consciously, his hands, tapping his breast pocket as though reminiscing some private past memory. "I was retrieving something very precious to me. For that, I would've gone through it—well mostly all of it—all over again."

"I see."

Officer Rossi finally emerged from the cloak room and offered her own thanks to their host. The young don simply blushed and waved aside her words, offering his own thanks in return. When Officer Rossi turned to go, Special Inspector De Luca walked alongside her before suddenly stopping and turning back to the young man who looked on curiously.

"Did you forget something Inspector?"

"Ah, yes, somewhat. Just one more thing. I, too, have something for you Don Vongola."

Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he retrieved a flat parcel and offered it to his host.

"I think that in the ensuing chaos during our first meeting, there was something very important that you left behind."

The young brunette looked down at what he offered, a single brow cocked inquiringly. The Inspector simply continued to hold it out until the young man took it. With a short nod and a small smile, he turned away and vanished behind the ornate swinging doors.

* * *

On the other side of the ballroom, behind another pair of ornate swinging doors, in another room much smaller in scale and grandeur as the one prior to it, a smaller gathering was being held. Here, all the most powerful heads lounged in easy repose, hands wrapped around delicate crystal flutes of red wine, lips painted with smiles or grins of amusement, eyes watching the ones around them in mischief or fascination.

Here too, were the former Vongola Don and his guardians as well the rest of the current Vongola Head's Famiglia. There was also the Varia, the Shimon Famiglia, the Giglio Nero and the don of the Cavallone and his retinue. And in one corner of the room, sitting on an ornate leather armchair firmly situated against the wall, hands casually stacked on his lap, his signature espresso cup on a nearby table, his signature fedora placed rakishly over his black locks, was the man Decimo had been looking for.

The noise continued on as he crossed the room. People called out and toasted him, offered compliments and gave out suggestions and he all answered them with his usual generous smile, his guardian's eyes following him steadily until he reached his destination. The black suited figure spared him a single glance. The young don held the man's eyes with his own and felt the silence that suddenly swept within the room. He stood quietly beside the small table and waited for the chair's occupant to address his presence.

"So Decimo, care to tell your beleaguered mentor what kind of scrape you got yourself into."

Without saying a word, he slid a small folded document across the gleaming antique end table towards his mentor. He then proceeded to walk out of the room with a small smile on his lips and an amused gleam in his chocolate eyes. The sound of the closing door echoed all over the private suite and an expectant, albeit tense, atmosphere descended upon the remaining occupants immediately.

Everywhere else silence reined. Everyone in the room, including the well informed guardians and the Cavallone Don waited with bated breath for how the famed hit man would react once he sees the charge. For a full five minutes there was absolute quiet. Nothing alive was stirring. The music and the festivities just behind the glass doors became muted, their breaths came out softly from lips that could no longer hold them back and even their very clothing refused to rustle. Everyone could hear the way the paper crackle as it was unfolded and slowly perused by the only eyes that need pass judgment.

It started with a mild snort that made it to a chuckle that grew to laughter to outright guffaws. At the sound one very amused don grinned from behind the glass door. Elsewhere, the entire mafia world shuddered in fear and abject terror. It was a battle cry that sounded the death knell of millions. Nothing—_save something unspeakably evil_—could and should make the legendary hit man laugh like that, they were certain.

The next day, all day, upon the return of the Vongola Famiglia to their Italian Headquarters and stronghold, there was a mood of inexplicable fear gripping the mansion. Maids and gardeners cleaned like their lives depended on it. Underlings found a thousand and one excuses to be elsewhere. Chores and tasks once deemed to be beneath their interests became of monumental importance. People were filing for assignments that could take them as fast and as far away from the mansion as possible. The armory suddenly found itself denuded of bulletproof vests and Kevlar. Bulletproof vehicles suddenly vanished from the garages and everywhere else silence reigned…echoing and pervasive enough to make one hear a single pin drop from across one end of the 5,000 square foot mansion to the other.

Allied families who requested audiences with the Vongola months in advance suddenly found plenty of reasons to delay their meetings with the family head. Newly allied families called in for further meetings and extended dialogues and consultations. They all found ways and means to reassess their proposal to yield the greater benefit of the Vongola. And rival Famiglias and Dons, once so eager and demanding in their clamor to challenge the young Don found that their leadership had a change of heart and most were in the process of reconsidering their stand and reevaluating their willingness to be annihilated.

And elsewhere in the inner recesses of the Vongola mansion, in a small chamber decorated with elegant, sparse furnishings, a smooth, gleaming desk was illuminated by the dying golden light of the day's final light. And on it, amidst bills and letters of intent, remonstration and recommendations, proposals and cancelation, lying innocuous and still, held down by an exquisite crystal chameleon paperweight, was a single sheet of foolscap fluttering in the warm Italian breeze.

The snow white paper was covered with words and affixed single small seal. The paper, heavy stock and filled with officious legalese, bore two things that stood out. Amidst the legal jargon and formal terminologies documenting the release of an offender written in elegant, intricately fine Copperplate hand a few pertinent details could be discerned. The First: the release papers were issued to one _**Sawada Tsunayoshi, 21 years old, of Japanese descent, holder of Japanese Passport, currently an official citizen and resident of Italy. **_The Second: It was a release pending the payment of the amount of One Hundred and Twenty Seven Dollars and Ten Cents, _**($127.10 USD**_) for the minor infraction of _**JAYWALKING**_.


End file.
